


Occupational Shifts

by fineinthemorning, TrashKanForLife



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: Alternate Universe- Yakuza, Basically everyone in TG is here, M/M, Secret Identity, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashKanForLife/pseuds/TrashKanForLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This isn't a great idea. I mean, it was fine when she was a hostess and I know that gender isn’t an issue but he's your kid's teacher--" Taishi trailed off, a little pale.</p><p>"He has piqued my interest." Arima focused on the male being clung to by the children. The man couldn’t be any more trouble than he was, himself, right?</p><p>Or that one AU where a well known yakuza boss falls in love with a kindergarten teacher after meeting him in a hostess club. Sasako is only one secret Haise keeps. Is Arima prepared to learn all of them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The tall individual observed the bustle and chatter of the establishment from the floor above: the clinking of glasses, the laughter of women, the discourse between men. He moved away from the balcony to elude the smoke that floated up from below. He didn’t quite sigh but made an audible noise close to resembling one and it was enough to alert the three women observing him from the circular couch behind him that he wasn’t exactly enjoying himself . At much insistence of his long time friend and right hand, he was made to entertain two hours from his schedule at the Shiran Hostess Club.

Arima Kishou rarely checked on the establishments in which much of the previous boss’s expenses had been placed. After overthrowing the prior boss that was only leading the family into destruction, Kishou had enough supporters loyal to him already to expel any others who disagreed. That was long ago- more than ten years now.

He kept their money in some establishments and drew it away from others. Establishments like this however, were profitable in many ways; he only cared to gather information when necessary here. Drunk men were happy men and happy men talked. While cash flow was beneficial from Shiran, it was the information that made it worth finally visiting. That was the real reason he was here. It was thanks to these . . . women . . . that he and his clan knew the secrets of politicians. Some of these women were secrets themselves, and that gave him weight for blackmail should it ever become necessary.  
  
"Would you like us to pour in more champagne, Arima-sama?" Arima could hear the nervousness of the woman's--Sayuri was it?-- voice as she held the bottle of Dom Perignon like a delicate trophy.  
  
He flitted his eyes for a moment. "No."  
  
"Ice then?" Another hostess suggested, her long legs slipping into view as she crossed her legs and the slit of her thin yellow dress moved open.  
  
Arima set his drink down at the table in front of the three women on the couch and turned his back to the crowded club below. He knew he wasn’t their typical client and he was being difficult, but he couldn’t help it; these were nothing but games and he was not one for games.  
  
Seemingly the youngest and yet most well endowed of the three stood up then, her shimmering pink dress never touching the floor due to her tall stiletto heels, "Would you like to chase it down with something sweet?" Her long, bejewelled fingernails courageously traced up his arm and her voice-- was it higher now than before?-- purred suggestively, as she smiled at him, nearly his height.

A glacial glare shut them all up, but the one in pink still sheepishly produced a cigar, “I was only-”

“I don’t smoke.”  
  
She sat immediately, laughing lightly to cover her nervousness, “I’m such a clutz! Oh no!”

Sayuri, who appeared to be the most experienced, shot her a look, and she quickly shut up. Cautiously, Sayuri, in her lilac colored dress and womanly features, stood to stand beside him but looked out at the crowd below. She didn’t make eye-contact  but whether that was out of fear or respect was not known, “Arima-sama, how can we help you relax this evening?”

Arima stared at nothing in particular. These three were supposed to be the best in Shiran- their most profitable club? Perhaps he was being too harsh. He was pretty much a closed door.

It was wise of them to back off, however, because he was not in the best of moods. He had reserved the VIP space for the sake of quiet, much to Fura's disapproval who had insisted it was much more fun to be in the heat of things, as he put it, on the first floor and was left to brood in the midst of three currently uncomfortable hostesses. When a subordinate shows up as a mangled corpse by the compound and an engagement with the Italian mafia proves to be nothing but a sour mistake, it does leave quite a bit for a busy yakuza boss to swallow. The atmosphere was not the best for any logical thinking, really.  
  
Taishi had been too carefree. Maybe they had all gotten soft, including him. Had they enjoyed peace for too long? Was this impending trouble necessary for them to remember themselves?  
  
"Leave me be." Arima said coolly.  
  
"But sir--" Sayuri actually looked concerned, and he hadn’t expected that. The other two waited on the couch to follow her lead.  
  
Arima met her eyes and he realized it was her acting that made her one of the best; at least one of them was worth something. Still, it wouldn’t get by him, "Tell your manager that it was my order."  
  
"Still--" her eyes fell sad, her glossy lips parted slightly and Arima was left feeling confused again-- she was acting, right?-- as to whether or not her concern was genuine.  
  
Arima forced out a smile. Despite it being forced, the smile must have been charming and genuine enough in appearance to have the hostesses blink the stars away in their eyes. "I want to be alone."  
  
Sayuri nodded in a daze and bowed her head slightly with the rest before descending down. Of course they were tense; he was an investor of the club and could stop financing the place at any time he wanted to. Arima leaned back onto a cushion and picked up the glass of champagne to finish it quickly. He didn’t have strong feelings for champagne, but it was a shame to let it go to waste. He was going to berate Taishi when they got back. His friend insisted he come in order to 'have some fun' but really, it was only a cover for his intentions to mingle with one of the other popular hostesses here, Sasada Aki. She had a reputation here, too, but she was also quite loud and passionate, so she had been assigned to her typical client, Taishi, and hadn’t set a foot near Arima’s VIP loft.  
  
Arima set his drink back with a soft thump. He contemplated the amount of paperwork he had to finish and decided that staying here was not worth his time, even if it was at the request of his friend. His ear caught  wind then of a commotion presumably in the stairway. Although the voices were nearly drowned out by the club music that seemed to get louder as the night wore on, it was audible enough that he could hear what they were saying.  
  
"Sasako, why are you so late?"Arima could recognize the owner of that voice as Sayuri's.  
  
"I lost track of time reading." He heard a sheepish voice say. "So, is he up there?"  
  
"Never mind."  It was Sayuri’s voice again. "Our customer doesn't want to be bothered."  
  
"I'm going."  
  
"Sasako!" Sayuri hissed. "He's--"  
  
"A major investor? Mhm, Mama Aura had told me." He could hear the firmness of her soft voice. "Even so, he's our customer. We are obliged to follow etiquette of keeping one company whether or not he wants it. That's included in every customer's payment. I mean, why else is he here?"  
  
"Okay, but he is not just _a_ major investor; he is _the_ major investor. Your job isn’t the only thing on the line; he can choose to close the place if he doesn’t have a pleasant experience.”

“I can do this, Sayuri. I mean, Mama Aura thinks I can, too; just have faith in me, okay?”

“Be careful. Hopefully he likes _your_ type.” There was a pat and then a shuffle of heels.  
  
Arima could deduce three possibilities of her nature. Given her persistence, she could be a money laundering woman. She mentioned Kiyoko, so a probability of simply being a faithful (and unfortunate) worker was high. Lastly, there was no fear in her voice, regardless of knowing  who he was. She could be a woman with a backbone. It wasn’t as if they were a rare species, but from his standpoint, he rarely saw them.  
  
He thought the last possibility would rather encourage his interest despite his current burdens and despite that she was, well, a hostess. He wasn’t interested in finding a woman by any means; he no longer had need for one, really. It would be nice to have his thoughts distracted temporarily if she could manage it, though.  
  
"You must be Arima-sama?” A figure emerged.

She wore a black laced dress with an A-line high neck and slightly puffed semi-transparent sleeves embellished with shiny beads that nearly reached her wrists. The dress stretched just a little above her knee and it would have been conservative if not for the way it did wonders to her figure, the satin especially hugging her in the right places. She had her platinum blonde strands tucked behind one ear on one side to emphasize the diamond teardrop dangling from her ear. The woman had a bob that curled on the tips. It accentuated her full cheeks. Eyes a dolly grey, lips a sakura pink, nose a buttoned one and cheeks a relative of the rose- Arima couldn’t confirm how many layers of makeup she wore under the bar lights but he was certain that she was very attractive. Kiyoko’s club was high-end but he thought absently that the beauty of the rest paled in comparison to hers.  
  
"Sorry for my tardiness." Her eyes twinkled as she smiled, her teeth a pearly white. "I'm Sasako, your hostess for the evening."  
  
Their eyes met and something sparked. The feeling was wholly unfamiliar to Arima. It wasn’t just a sexual attraction; for lack of a better term, he simply felt drawn to her.  
  
"I already dismissed the hostesses. That includes you." From the couch, he waved her away.  
  
"With all due respect, I'm not your subordinate." Sasako strided towards him with an impenetrable air. With all the softness in her features, he wondered how she can manage a sharp gaze that could cut. The mere waving of his hand had offended her so? What a prideful woman.  
  
"Hostesses follow a customer's wishes." Arima wasn’t one for games if that was what she was attempting. It was still too early to tell, however, so he went along with it for now.  
  
"I prioritize this club's protocol over their preference. A customer should never be left alone at Shiran.” She sat beside him, but unlike the other hostesses, she kept a distance so as not to touch him or make physical contact with him, “Besides, a man should never be left alone to brood- especially one so young.”  
  
Brood? Young? He wasn’t brooding, and he was certainly older than she was at least by a few years. "Rather brash, aren't you?" It might have been a  mistake of the lights, but her face contorted into an indignant one for the briefest moments. Arima hid his amusement in a facade void of emotion.  
  
"Not as brash as you." Sasako threw back, a warning in her pleasant voice, “You shouldn’t treat the women who work so hard for you and are only doing their jobs with so little respect.”  
  
Arima frowned. This wasn’t a game for her at all. What did she expect? An apology? "Kiyoko may lose a good employee."  
  
"I'll worry about that tomorrow." Sasako crossed her legs and began turning the bottles on the table to read the labels. "Arima-sama, I'm well aware of who you are. Right now however, you're a VIP customer of a hostess club. Nothing more, nothing less. The customer purchases a fantasy and we provide that fantasy- quite often beyond their expectations. Each of us has a role to play. It's that simple."  
  
Arima was caught off guard at the realization that he was being reprimanded. The woman seemed to know the risks of talking back to him, yet showed no signs of fear.  
  
She was a woman with a backbone then. A woman with so much pride had ended up a hostess? She was surely destined for more than this temporary glory.

“A sour.” He watched her blink in mild surprise and then very slowly, curved her lips again into a gentle smile.  
  
His expression was blank, but his eyes never left hers until she looked away to make the drink, “Good choice.  Only the champagne thus far? This won’t be heavy on the stomach, then. I trust you like it strong?”  
  
"That’s fine." Arima agreed. He did not drink often, but it was part of the culture, so he had long since learned to adapt.  
  
Sasako handed over his drink. "You appreciate simple pleasures, don’t you, Arima-sama?” She observed the Dom Perignon and how little that had been consumed.  
  
"I do."  
  
"Hmm." Sasako made her own drink which was simply whisky on rocks and before they each took a sip from their respective drinks, they clinked the glasses together politely. After she took a sip, she smiled at him again and moved her head to look up into his eyes curiously,  "I get the feeling you don't enjoy places like this?"  
  
"It's loud." Arima admitted before sipping again from his own glass "And I'm not in it for company, either."  
  
"Then why are you here?" Sasako asked thoughtfully, straightening her back.  
  
"In my line of work, we can't give out information lacking fair trade." Grey met grey and Arima once again took a second to marvel still at how much more alive her eyes appeared to be than his own. Most of the women here wore contacts, but she did not. Most of them wore long, fake fingernails, but hers were naturally manicured. Most of the women here laughed and flirted and touched, but she remained unique.  
  
"Oh." She wore a contemplative look and had that all too attractive smile after. "What would you want in exchange?"  
  
"Information." He knew why but he decided to test her honesty, "You were late."  
  
"Ah, that." Sasako brightened noticeably. "I was reading _Truth_ by Peter Temple. The plot was engaging, not one moment stale, and I liked how the protagonist is challenged by his declining moral and of society's--" She stopped herself, suddenly timid. "I was immersed in reading.. That's all."  
  
Arima hadn't come across a bibliophile for a considerable amount of time, and even more so a woman. To meet an equivalent with a shared thirst in literature was pleasant. "The suspense dragged too much. The prequel was better in my opinion." He offered her an opening to go on discussing the work.  
  
Her eyes widened  slightly, but then she smiled again. Arima couldn’t look away once more. How was it possible to grow more attractive with each upturn of the lips? "I don't have the heart to disagree. _The Broken Shore_ is his best masterpiece."

To be a great hostess, Sasako had to be familiar with all current events, foreign affairs, politics, etc., but rarely was she allowed to go into such depth concerning literature alone. Time passed, and they moved on through the books that they’d read, picking up with one author and moving through genre at a time. " _Bloodline_ was good but not as great as the rest of the Sigma installments."

" _Eye of God_ made up for the lacking quality however."  Arima felt the conversation flow from him naturally.  
  
"I agree." Sasako clapped her hands and then paused. "But despite all of these of these excellent foreign works, I'm more faithful to Japanese literature. Beautiful, refined, and meaningful words put together for a statement that is something worth remembering . . . I suppose I’m bias in a way, but it appeals deeply to me."  
  
Arima, taking the conversation very seriously, shook his head slightly, "No, the ambiguity behind words does have a strong appeal. Nakajima Atsushi utilized the concept well."  
  
_"The head may err but never the blood._ " She said with smile that this time came from her eyes.  
  
_"There are moments in which you cannot have faith in what you think. Instead, have blind belief in the foundations of your soul, or your heart."_ Arima shared his own quote and watched her silently chuckle. The breathy sounds rang wonderfully in his ears. He dismisses the thought immediately.  
  
"Arima-sama, you said what was just in my head." Her eyes swam with delight but this time, the yakuza boss had to force himself to look away. "You could've been a philosopher in another lifetime."  
  
"I perform best in this line of work." Arima admitted without looking back at her.  
  
"Being able to interact and talk with you for the past hour, I know that you're more than a feared oyabun."  
  
He turned back to frown at her. Those not within the clan should not openly discuss its workings. She seemed unaffected by his silent threat and he took it as ignorance. "You're not bad yourself-flattering- as a hostess should be be." Arima was only a customer to her and to him, it was only a means to relax his mind temporarily.  
  
Right?  
  
Sasako slowly shook her head. "I don't smile genuinely at just anyone and, I don't talk of what I like openly either."  
  
Their eyes meet and this time, it is on both their parts that they cannot seem to pull their eyes away from each other.  
  
He had to be lying to himself after all, but when she challenged him then with a beckoning smile, and a gentle hand on his thigh, he tensed.  
  
She was different. A distinctiveness he couldn't place. Each time he looked into her eyes brimming with all types of emotions, each time he listened to her words that slipped from  her pretty lips, each time she moved- purposeful yet with grace- he felt he had never encountered a woman than breathed such life into him.  
  
"...It wasn't a waste." The air seemed to sizzle with an ineffable tension between the two of them, and, as if being drawn in by the same spell he’d felt cast over him when he’d first gazed upon her, he leaned forward, "My evening here that is."  
  
His pocket buzzed suddenly and the spell shattered. Sasako reclaimed her hand and sat up straight and he did the same. "You should take that." she actually winked when she said it.  
  
Arima swiftly stood, pulled out his phone, and walked to the corner of the room to answer it.  
  
"I'm sorry to interrupt you Boss, but Hairu-chan was throwing a tantrum and wanted to see you. She snuck into the laundry room and thought that--" It was Ui Koori’s voice.  
  
"Koori, just get to the point." His voice held no particular tone as his words said quite enough of his mood.  
  
"Part of the household is flooded in soap suds and she locked herself inside the artillery room with the key. Suzuya, who typically gets her out, is in Moscow right now. We can't bust it open, either. She might.."  
  
"I'll be there as soon as I can." Arima massaged his temples in distress, but it was the only sign that he was upset.  
  
"Yes, Boss." The line went dead.  
  
Arima auto-dialed another contact, and it rang three times before it was answered. "Taishi."  
  
"What--" He sounded out of breath.  
  
Arima could hear the man clearly; he wasn’t downstairs then. "Ready the car this instant. It's Hairu."  
  
"Got it." The line went dead again.  
  
Arima pocketed his phone and moved back to the table to see Sasako patiently sipping at her drink with a gentle expression. Her beauty was simple and refined. It felt calming just to behold her.

What was wrong with him?

“Something urgent?” Her features softened.  
  
He nodded.  
  
"You know, you haven't answered my question yet, of why you're here. But the next time you come, I hope to hear it from you." Sasako wore an understanding look and it seemed that she didn't want an apology from him.  "Go."  
  
He held her eyes for one last, brief moment, and left.

* * *

 

"She's right here." Koori called to him as he entered and directed him to the platinum coated door. Arima sent a signal for the rest save Koori and Taishi to disperse.  
  
Arima could hear shuffling inside the room so he crouched down, "Hairu, it's me."  
  
"Tou-chan?" A thud on the door. She must have fallen against it; she sounded very tired.  
  
"What are you doing, Little Cherry?" Arima asks, mindful of his tone.  
  
"Tou-chan wasn't here,, so I thought if I made enough bubbles, I can go to where Tou-chan was. . . . Like in the story-" She was was crying. "But I couldn't so maybe if I have those thingies Tou-chan's friends carry, Hairu can be with Tou-chan, too?"  
  
"Hairu, you don't need any of those to see me." The moments in which he shared with Hairu were his most humane.  
  
"Then why haven't you come?" Hairu sobbed more. “Four days!” she insisted on reminding him that they hadn’t seen each other in some time. Her counting was off; it had been six, but he wouldn’t correct her now.  
  
"I'm sorry." Arima softened his voice. "Tou-chan was busy this week but I'm here to stay now."  
  
"Really? Tou-chan will?"  
  
"Yes. I won't go away anytime soon."  
  
"Promise?" She insisted again and Kishou wanted to smile. She was already quite the princess.  
  
Arima slightly tilted his lips up, and his eyes shared his adoration for her, "I promise."  
  
A click and then his four year old daughter jumped out of the crevice and into his arms. Arima lifted her up and kissed her forehead as she laughed.  
  
The clan needed a successor, a person to take after him. So, he chose a surrogate mother to bear his child. He only found out later that his child would be female. The possibility of a girl running the clan was slim but he cared and raised for her without regard for that. Whether she chose to lead or not, Hairu was his flesh and blood and brought him happiness when he knew of none.  
  
"Hairu, how did you get in?"  
  
Pink eyes struggled to stay open under long lashes as she yawned, "Itou-ojiisan was dozing off in the lounge. I got the keys from him."

“And where are they now?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she only giggled.

"l dropped ‘em in the bubbles."  
  
Kuramoto might not go unscathed with his carelessness. He turned to his two subordinates that were still with him, "Find the keys, and let the others take care of the weaponry and the mess. I expect the floors to be clean by tomorrow. As for Kuramoto--"  
  
A yubitsume sounded appropriate. Or maybe a loss in rank? Kuramoto was as good a fighter as he was, typically, with kids, but- this could not happen again.  
  
"Tou-chan don't hurt Itou-ojiisan." She tugged on his fabric with her tiny hands balled into fists. "Pleasseee. I made him watch the sleepy show all night."  
  
"The news channel?"  
  
Hairu vigorously nodded. "I played games to stay awake." She produced Itou’s phone from somewhere in her pajamas.  
  
Arima sighed. "Taishi, warn Kuramoto of his negligence. Tell him I won't be satisfied with a cut finger should he make the same mistake."  
  
Taishi gave a mocking salute. "Understood.”

Koori, forcing his superior to show the proper respect, pushed Taishi into a synched bow. "We'll be leaving. Goodnight."  
  
Arima nodded and turned down the hallway, carrying his daughter all the way to her room to tuck her in.  
  
"I'm not sleepy." Hairu retaliated after another long yawn.  
  
"You won't grow tall like me if you don't sleep." He amusedly watched her face distort in fear.  
  
"I-I feel sleepy now." she nodded quickly.  
  
"Good." Arima ruffled her hair and kissed her forehead. He reclaimed Itou’s phone and turned to the lamp on her nightstand, but before turning it out, Hairu whined.  
  
"Tou-chan," Hairu shifted. "Where were you?"  
  
He had to carefully play with his words. "I met a nice lady and we talked.”  
  
"A nice lady? Was she smart, too? And pretty?"  
  
"We discussed books." Hairu blanched at the mention of them. She liked it when her father read to her, but she did not like trying to learn the letters and sounds and words.  
  
"You like her?" Hairu never asked about her mother- not that Arima ever attempted to hide anything. Still, sometimes, she sounded like she might like to have one around. He wondered if not having a female around was affecting her growth that much, however. She certainly wasn’t a gentle four year old.  
  
Arima blinked. He’d only just met the woman, and honestly, he never entertained such notions. Still, she was . . . different, and that was . . . something. Maybe he’d forget about her in the morning.

Maybe not.  
  
_The head may err but never the blood._  
  
"Little Cherry, go to sleep." he turned out the light and the room was lit by the night light and the light from the hall alone.

* * *

 

Arima tried to see her again, but she was never at Shiran when he dropped by.  
  
Two, three weeks went by without being able to meet her and he was starting to doubt if she was real. Taishi found out that he’d inquired about her three times in two weeks and, without pressing the issue, reaffirmed to him that she did, indeed, work there, albeit only as a part timer.  
  
"Aki told me you've dropped by a few times.. I never would have guessed you’d fall into the same trap as me!" Taishi wiped a tear and followed the gesture with a smirk  
  
"The documents." Arima held out his waiting hand to receive the envelope Taishi had actually come to drop by.  
  
"You and Sasako huh?" Taishi whistled. “I’ve seen her around. She’s a looker, that one.”  
  
" _Taishi._ " Arima turned his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, "Hand the file over. I’m not in the mood."  
  
His friend shrugged and did as he was told, "When are you ever _in the mood_? This is why you’re thirty five and you have a head full of white hair. She usually works on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays, but Aki-chan said she randomly disappears like that for weeks at a time. It's normal."  
  
Arima skimmed through the contents of the envelope but was unable to actually internalize any of the information with the current conversation they were having. "Kiyoko allows this?"  
  
"Aura is desperate to keep a gem like her. She's popular among both genders. Sasako was even proposed to once." Taishi’s smirk wasn’t leaving. The oyabun had a weakness this type? "Admit it Arima. You have a crush on her."  
  
He would admit only, "She's good company."  
  
"Oh stop it with your damn diplomacy." Taishi groaned. "I would've wanted in if I haven't met Aki first."  
  
Arima slid the Mont Blanc pen from where it was clipped. He signed the blank below and closed the documents. "Take this to Shinohara-san."  
  
He wanted to punch the other's smug expression, better yet, shoot it off. Taishi made a smart retreat to the doors instead. "She's damn fine, you know!"

* * *

  
"Tou-chan, why does my name have to be different?"  
  
"No one will hurt you this way." Arima flipped over the enrollment form and answered her as if he were speaking to an adult. Sometimes, he did not think to edit his language and that had already blown up in his face on more than one occasion. The problem was that he often didn’t realize he was doing it.  
  
"But that’s lying." His daughter cocked her head. “And why would it hurt?”  
  
"There are some lies we tell to protect others; we call it a white lie.” He realized his mistake in mentioning her being hurt but could just ignore the question for now and likely Hairu would pay no mind. He needed to be more careful; he wasn’t really adept at . . . playing a father.  
  
Hairu was of age to attend a kindergarten. She had been homeschooled for pre-school and was already pretty intelligent for her age, but, due to her background, the process of having her enrolled was not as easy as the rest. He had to pull a few strings and had her alias as Ihei Hairu for safety purposes. A private tutor would have been recommended but he did recognize the value in raising Hairu around peers her own age. His childhood had been lonely, and he didn’t want that for her.  
  
“You want to see a picture of your school? It’s called the _‘Chateau’_.” He handed her a pamphlet with a picture of the private school she’d be attending. It was small, and it only had a few teachers, but the ratings, scores, and credibility were all rather impressive.

Hairu took the flier and turned it over in her hands absently, "Will you come with me? To school?" She looked up at him with a face that would not take _no_ for an answer.  
  
The right thing to say was that he couldn't. "Would you like that?"  
  
Hairu was overjoyed and wrapped her small arms around his neck instantly, "Absotely."  
  
"It's _absolutely._ " Arima reminded her while welcoming her hug. He could drop her off and meet the teachers at least.

* * *

  
He arrived with Hairu about an hour early, but he could hear the shuffle of children in the floors above. He had opted to take the train with Hairu. The walk from the station to the school was only five short minutes and it was tucked away from the bustling business in and around the station to allow for a fair amount of quiet. His face was actually only well known to the wrong sort of people, so the fact that no one seemed to respond to his face upon meeting him and Hairu put him at ease. In fact, the staff focused mostly on her, and that made him feel the slightest bit more trusting of the praise the school had received.  
  
Once told where the kindergarten and first grade classroom was, Arima offered a polite smile and continued to guide Hairu through the hallway. The woman at the front had been rather attractive,  but he wouldn't lay a finger on any of her teachers.  
  
He slid the door open and noticed a teacher preparing his materials, either unaware of their arrival or too busy with what he was doing to look up. Arima managed to determine his gender with the strands falling flat on the back of his neck. He had an androgynous figure from behind, the sweater he was wearing a size too big for him. The ribbon from his apron hinted at his curves and Arima shut his eyes. He was a grown man; he had no reason to be sizing anyone up, especially his daughter’s teacher. He could hear Taishi’s teasing him about Sasako in the back of his mind. Surely he really wasn’t so pathetic?  Unsure of how to go about interrupting the teacher’s work, he knocked purposefully on the door.  
  
Arima’s thoughts and expression went blank completely when the teacher turned around. The said teacher smiled and focused immediately on Hairu without even appearing to notice the ice-capped mountain beside her.  
  
"Hello there!" His voice wasn’t as high pitched as _hers_ but the resemblance is there- a soft, pleasant lilt that Arima immediately recognized. The teacher bent over to greet her the pink-haired four year old, "What's your name?"  
  
"I-Ihei...Hairu." The four year old girl watched him in equal awe. She’d said the right name she’d practiced with her daddy, right? She looked up into Arima’s face expectantly.  
  
"That's a beautiful name." Haise smiled and followed her gaze as he stood up to face the parent.  
  
Arima was still drawing a blank.

First off, Sasako was a woman.  
  
Unless she turned out to be a . . . he. _She’s popular with both genders._  
  
Second, he didn't have medium long hair. No, the hair color was completely different.  
  
Unless _he_ used a wig.  
  
Third, her chest.  
  
Unless what _she_ had was _fake_.  
  
The more he tried to argue against, the more he realized that he had been . . . tricked.  
  
Their eyes met and the teacher’s went wide.  
  
Arima stared blankly into the single pair of eyes he’d seen in his life that he felt sure he could lose himself in forever . . . and he knew.  
  
It was her.  
  
" _Sasako?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FitM: Thank you for reading! This is my first full collaboration, so I thought I might share the process with all of you. TKFL wrote the plot, headcanon, most of the dialogue, and the first draft. Then, I went through and edited and wrote the second, adding here and there. This first chapter was very fun, and I have really enjoyed working with her, so I hope you may enjoy our collaboration as well. Thanks again!
> 
> TKFL: Hey guys, I appreciate those who picked this work up and spared some time to read. The Yakuza au was just an idea that popped in my head and with her encouragement and partnership, voila! This was born. Fineinthemorning-san is a very reliable partner and I am so happy for this collab to have happened and like her, I hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> Definition of Terms:  
> Oyabun- head of the yakuza family, the absolute leader of the clan  
> Yubitsume- finger shortening; ritual to atone for an offense


	2. Chapter 2

“Sasako?”

Haise strongly believed that there was no such thing as fate or destiny. Superstition was nothing short of fairy tales told to keep children behaving and fate was merely a sequence of events that occurred as people made their own decisions. To allow oneself to live believing that no matter what happened, fate guided you completely outside of your own control was laughable at best. How convenient for people to hide in that lie.

He believed in it once a long time ago. That naive mindset of his had quite obviously changed since. _There's no such thing as fate. Life is simply a combination of one circumstance after another._

“Ah?” Haise elicited, blinking a few times and at a loss of words. Believing what he did, however, he had to wonder for a moment what _this_ was. Haise had been so careful in living his . . . many lives. He weighed in detail after detail to ensure that none of them ever crossed into the other. Haise was good at learning secrets, but the small, pink haired child was not one that Haise knew about. Now, there was a mob boss he worked for who knew two of his identities- including the one he was most vulnerable in.

Hairu threw curious glances at both adults, her short twintails flipping back and forth as she turned her head from one adult to the other, “Tou-chan, you know him?”

“He’s,” eyes hidden behind spectacles remained fixated on the delicate features of the man’s face in front of him. He had of course heard of and seen men with feminine features, but seeing Sasako now dressed as a man gave him reason to wonder if one person could be blessed with beauty representative of either sex- male and female. “ . . . an acquaintance of sorts.”

Haise smiled faintly as he was still recovering from the shock of seeing him. Well, there was the fact that he was here and had recognized him so easily, but there was also the fact that Arima was a parent on top of that. Without realizing it, Haise simultaneously was trying to think of the ways in which things could go wrong with Arima knowing both of these occupations and also making up stories about the wife he knew nothing about. Funny, he hadn’t taken Arima for the type to be married and then go to a hostess club, but he had said that he was only there to appease a friend. Maybe that had been his wife on the phone? “Your . . . father and I met once before,” Haise pulled his eyes away from the other’s and looked down at Hairu with a smile.

“Huh.” Hairu was already bored. There didn’t seem to be much to that story at all. “Mister, when will classes start?”

Haise lifted his forearm, checking the wristwatch. “In about half an hour, why?”

Hairu shied away, crumpling a bit of Arima’s pants as she hid slightly behind her father’s legs, “Nothing.”

Despite the difficult situation Haise was in, he found himself smiling genuinely. Children would often make bait and leave it to the older ones to figure out what they wanted. Haise bent so as to be near her eye level. “Hairu-chan, would you like to go to the playroom?”

Her pink pupils sparkled with excitement. He’d clearly hit the bullseye. “Where is it, Mister?” Hairu had seen the picture of the room in the pamphlet. What was the word for it, the room was-- She lit up after rummaging through her vocabulary mentally. The room was marvelous!

Haise laughed and lent her a hand to shake. “You may call me Sasaki-sensei, and I’ll take you there.” He slowly looked up to Arima, stiff but determined. “Is this okay with you?”

“It’s..fine.” Arima answered which resulted in Hairu latching onto his leg with a pleased squeal.

Haise stood and began to lead them from the room, “It’s this way.”

Yes. He just needed to focus on what she asked and shouldn’t meet eyes with her father again. Her enigmatic, handsome father who he could feel currently burning holes through the back of his head with the intensity of his gaze and his unvoiced questions. Damn it all. Haise was tense with sickening anticipation. What was Arima Kishou currently thinking of him? Truly, they met only once and that was when Haise was donning his identity as a woman- a pretty and bold one at that. He strangely felt conscious of Arima’s opinion.

The men he’d met as Sasako for the most part were shallow and haughty. They only talked about themselves and branded women as if they were accessories. He wasn't a woman but after going through the trouble of learning mannerisms, make-up, fashion and all things that made a woman as she was, it just angered him. Women were so much more and a certain waitress of a cafe proved it years ago. They deserved more respect than most men, and, from his small experiences, had to fight twice as hard to earn it. The females  who requested Haise at Shiran were polite and witty. Attractive, lovely really, but not what he was looking for. Of course, he was sure that they’d be rather embarrassed and possibly even angry should they ever discover the secret behind their favored and lovely Sasako. Would Arima Kishou be the same?

When the three arrived in the playroom, Hairu took off quickly to begin her quest to discover everything the marvelous playroom had to offer.

“She likes to play the role of a knight,” Arima stated as he stood by the doorway while Sasako--or was it Sasaki now, leaned on the playroom's wall a good distance away from him.

Like that night, an initial distance without intent of touching was present in the clear boundaries that he felt drawn between them like a line in the sand.The farther they were now indicated Sasaki didn't quite want anything from him at all. It settled a bit uncomfortably in his thought process.

“...I can see that.” Sasaki still smiled politely however. They both looked at the four-year-old proudly waving her sword while on the rocking horse.

Arima could leave anytime now, in fact, he knew that he really _should_. The unforgettable woman he thought of and sought for turned out to be a man-and his child’s teacher at that. He was deceived and that should be a concern. What was truly worrying, however, was the fact that he wasn't receiving this negatively. In fact, as he watched the person only a few meters from him smile gently at his daughter, he was beginning to like the picture more and more.

“About Hairu.” Arima said, attempting another approach.

The other didn't look his way but kept his eyes on the child. “I know, I’m supposed to keep it a secret that you're her--” It was quite obvious really. Who did Arima Kishou take him for? If he had learned anything in finding out that he was a school teacher- and male at that- it should have been that he was especially skilled in keeping secrets.

“Yes, you should.” He replied with dead seriousness. Arima chose to keep her real identity secret. If anyone got word, then… He stopped at that. What he was supposed to say was, “Treat her well and equally as you do the rest of the children. If possible, teach her how to write the difficult words and don't neglect her. Who knows what Hairu will do while no one is looking?”

“Such as..?” Haise finally looked over to him, but when he did, he noticed that the man’s eyes were on his daughter and nothing else.

There was a long list of her mischievous acts. “Don't give her a toy gun unsupervised; she will try to fit anything inside as ammo once she’s tired of retrieving the styrofoam bullets. She tends to play in the mud while it rains. If you can't stop her, tempt her back indoors with pudding and strawberry milk. I’ve already sent one of my men to store some in your kitchen. Hairu will do anything to haul your attention away from the others- especially if she grows attached to you. Please, do have the patience and-”

A laugh erupted, breaking the awkward air. Hairu spared them another curious look but seeing that nothing was wrong, resumed her play at knighthood back in her own little world. Arima stopped short of breath because Sasaki finally turned to him with the brightest of smiles, nearly blinding him. “You have cared for her rather well, I see. Know that myself and the rest of the staff are very good at what we do. Your daughter will be well taken care of.” He had already noticed that Arima had, within the same conversation, asked for him to both treat his daughter the same as the other children and yet rain her in extra attention. It was already obvious that he spoiled her quite a bit. If little Hairu would be getting strawberry milk and pudding, then so would all the rest. Haise had only just discovered that Arima was a father, but he had not expected him to be quite so soft.

“I do and will continue to care for her,” Arima admitted fondly.

Sasaki stifled his laughter in consideration. “That’s cute.”

But then Arima added, “I am entrusting her care to you, and-I beg your pardon?” That was a first for him to be associated with _cute_. It would be offensive and definitely no one could ever live the tale of telling him of all people. Yet, Sasaki had inserted it seamlessly into their polite conversation. It was apparently not just a skill possessed by Sasako, but one possessed by this man, Sasaki Haise, as well.

“It’s cute of you to dote on her that way.” The teacher’s dazzling smile didn’t fade. Sasaki slowly closed in, extending a hand after in offer to formally greet him,  “I believe we didn't have a proper greeting. My name is Sasaki Haise.”

Arima blinked. It was an odd name- both names sounding like last names, but in its uniqueness, he found it very fitting for the man before him. He only hoped it was the real name he used this time.

Arima clasped his hand. He tried to ignore how smooth the surface of his alabaster skin was. “Arima Kishou,” he offered automatically.

“It’s nice to meet you, Arima-san.”

“It didn't appear that way at first, Sasaki-sensei,” Arima may have been teasing slightly, but only those who knew him very well would have been able to tell.

Haise flashed a guilty expression and Arima immediately regretted having put it out so bluntly. Of course, Sasaki, like Sasako, was merely a stranger to him. Haise inhaled and exhaled slowly,  “It’s not that. I actually wanted to see you again. This is a little _different_ from the next meeting I had envisioned. I did not expect you’d be keeping such a secret, yourself, either.” Haise glanced pointedly at the girl who was now clashing swords with an invisible foe. “No one at Shiran knew; you’ve hidden it well.”

“As I intend to keep doing,” Arima said carefully.

“Of course,” Haise swallowed. He had meant no ill will, but it was clear that Arima was overly cautious with his daughter.

“I, too.” Haise gazed up at him as Arima admitted, “I did not expect this meeting, either. It is different, yes, and I have some questions but,” he paused before going on, “your own secret is safe with me.”

“You’re… okay with me?” Sasaki felt a blush rise to face and hoped Arima wouldn’t notice.

Arima was confused, “I don't mind.”

A demure smile in response was more than satisfying, but then Haise went on to say, “Look at us, sharing secrets already and this is only our second meeting.” He gave a soft chuckle and then blanched immediately.

Was he really flirting with a married man?

The bell rang, clear and loud throughout the hallways.

“I need to assemble the kids.” Haise jumped at the opportunity to end the conversation before he slipped up again.  “Excuse me, Arima-sama-san-Arima-san.” he blushed and looked away again before he walked past the man to gather the other children Hairu’s age to his room.

A moment later Hairu was giving a goodbye hug to her father, squeezing him tightly to the point where Arima could hear his ribs creak. For a girl with a developing and small body, her strength was not to be laughed at. Arima patted her head gently. “Take will pick you up later.”

Hairu pouted, unsatisfied with that. Arima suppressed a fond sigh because Hairu would always get what she wanted-most of the time at least. He had been scheduled for four appointments with different families in regard to several property and weapons trades. Arima also had to address his men. The earliest time he could be back would be eight in the evening. He didn't want to let her down, but he would have to try for another day. Today was not possible. Then again, he had a meeting to attend to tomorrow as well.

Haise, after addressing the children back in his room, waited outside in the hallway behind them for Hairu, “I’m sure your father would want to pick you up; it’s only that he is busy.”

“But he’s always busy!” Hairu crossed her arms defiantly.

Arima was about to say something when Haise gave a kind, almost maternal look. It was  soothing, and in contrast, arresting. “That, he is. I might not know him that well but if he’s really busy, aren't _you_ special then?”

“Huh?” Hairu blinked in confusion.

“Despite how much work he has, he made time to send you here personally, right?”

“Y-yes.”

“Doesn’t he try his best to see you?”

“I think so.” Hairu put a finger on her lips.

“Does he hug you when he does, like now?”

Hairu vigorously nodded.

“You’re _very_ special then.” Haise’s voice softened even more. “But sometimes, he has to do his job. It may be lonely and you will miss him but, he’s very special to you too, right?”

“Uhn!” Hairu nodded again.

“Then try to understand him,” Haise said gently.

Hairu stared at her shoes and felt a bit ashamed. She understood she had to share her father at times.

Arima reached for her hand. “Little cherry, I’ll try to come tomorrow.”

“No, sensei’s right.” She looked slightly reluctant but bravely went on,. “Just come when you can, Tou-chan.”

“Hairu…” he rarely saw her act so beyond her years.

“It’s okay.” The pink-haired girl beamed reassuringly. “Sasaki-sensei’s here, so I’ll be okay.”

“She’ll be fine,” Haise reassured him and Arima let go of his daughter.

Should he really let Hairu study in this facility?

Arima practically knew little to nothing about the man before him save for the fact that he appeared to live some kind of double life. It could be coincidence that Arima had ended up bringing Hairu here, or, there could have been some kind of ulterior motive as to why Sasaki worked there. Though, Haise had appeared genuinely shocked to see Arima there and with a child, but it was already clear that he was a good liar, too.Was he just that great at putting up an act? Arima took one, final good look at the teacher by day and hostess by night. Sasaki’s eyes seemed so earnest, calm, and captivating. Haise was like a lake with still, undisturbed waters with the silhouette of the moon being laid out in silent reflection. It was as if anyone could be submerged beneath the surface and get lost inside the depths, never to resurface. It took much effort to carefully avoid being sucked into the gray, murky waters of his eyes that served only to reflect Arima’s own.

Haise knowingly smiled and challenged him once more to decide, “I promise to keep Hairu safe.”

Hairu made an approving noise. “I like him Tou-chan! I think sensei’s nice! It’s a woman’s institution.”

_“Intuition.”_ Arima corrected and gave a kiss to his daughter’s cheek, “I’ll see you as soon as possible little cherry.”

At the corner of his eye, pearly white teeth flashed.

Hairu smiled and, after her wave of goodbye, Haise and Hairu made their way back to the classroom together; Arima watched them retreat and was about to walk as well until Haise turned from his shoulder and mouthed something, winking once and turning back to his daughter.

Arima felt his chest flutter. Sasako or not, it might be too late for him to turn tail and run from this one. Even if the action may have been innocent enough, too much could be read into the words that were said.

_See you when I can, Arima-sama._

* * *

 

“Who’s the unfortunate soul?”

Arima frowned at Taishi's remark. They were on their way to the conference room, walking at first at a steady pace but it soon became a slow paced walk with Taishi lowering the cadence of his steps.

Arima wondered why his right hand had been giving him strange looks. “No one.”

If he wasn’t well, himself, Arima would have rolled his eyes from Taishi’s exaggerated gasp. “I hope it isn’t the end of the world. You’re creeping me out with that smile of yours.”

Arima eased slightly, remembering why he had a smile. “I’m in a good mood today.”

Taishi shook his head. “If you’re going to target someone, it better not be me--” He blinked for a moment and asked, very very slowly. “Did you meet with Sasako?”

Arima quirked his lips up briefly. “Something like that.”

“What does that mean?” It was his friend who was frowning this time. “The club only opens from afternoon to dawn or could it be that you met her outside? But the only place you went to this morning before work was Hairu-chan’s--” Taishi cut himself off in order to open the door to the conference room. Arima’s subordinates stood with little to no unnecessary noise.

“Good afternoon sir!” They said in practiced synchronization.

With a quick nod of acknowledgment, they went back to their respective seats except for Koori who handed him a clipboard. Taishi never ceased giving strange looks.

Arima would let him do the math.

* * *

 

After the children were dismissed, Haise was left to ponder on a certain parent who came by. A certain _customer_ \-- he sighed. Who was he to fool?  Aura had left him a hint that Arima Kishou was single and it had since become less credible as his morning folded out in the most eccentric of ways. Arima brought in his _daughter_ to his class. 

Haise buried his head in his hands. _See you when I can._ Really? Why had he winked? Was he such a glutton for punishment? Surely this was just a harmless crush? Besides, the man was probably married and if he was able to keep both that and Hairu a secret, Haise assumed he was equally skilled in lying to protect them. Why had he acted so impulsively?

If Hairu was Arima’s child, it wasn’t farfetched to say Arima had a wife, too. Haise didn’t want to wreck a marriage because of some delusions creatively stewing into his mind.

His best friend would probably pay to watch what had gone down that morning. He’d mentioned the mob boss to him after he’d met him as Sasako, and Hide had yet to stop bugging him about it. Haise wiped his face. If Hide was bad enough, he could only dreadfully imagine Touka’s reaction. She would never let this die down- especially if Arima was actually married.  Haise shuddered at the thought.

“Sasaki-sensei!”

Haise left the faculty room and made his way through the halls towards the voice. The teacher looked to and fro when a powerful force, comparable to a bullet train, hit him. Haise was accustomed to impact, especially in this facility. “Sasaki.” It was Kuki, a four-year-old. The only indication of his distress was his labored breathing. “Mutsuki and Yonebayashi are fighting outside.” Haise rushed to the playground outside, leaving Kuki walking behind him.

“Ow!” The remaining kids outside were close to tears, not knowing what to do. Some were already crying. Haise slipped through to see the semi-violent bout in the middle. Ginshi was there too, being a human shield between both clashing sides.

“Mukkun, let go of my hair!” The blue-haired girl weeped.

Tooru tumbled, causing Kuki and Saiko to fall to the ground, “Give me back my Eyepatch!”

Who had left the children alone out here?

“Stop, please.” Haise stood before them, causing them to freeze at the tone used.

Ginshi sighed in relief.

“S-Sasaki-sensei,.” Tooru shakily said.

After Haise finished helping them up and fixing their attire, the oldest, Saiko, spoke, “I only wanted to tease Mukkun a little bit…”

“By taking his eyepatch? By taking something that doesn’t belong to you, Saiko-chan?” Haise took both of her tiny hands and looked into her tear-stained face. “Saiko-chan, you already know how Tooru feels about that, and you know better than to take what is not yours.”

“I just…”

“You’re the oldest among them by a year. As the oldest, you must be responsible and thoughtful.”

Saiko hiccupped and nodded slowly.

Haise moved to the next child, “Tooru, what you did really hurt Saiko. Pulling her hair is a no-no.”

“She--”

“I know,” Haise gently replied, “But just because she took your eyepatch doesn't mean you should physically hurt her in return.”

The two kids turned to meet the other, “I’m sorry for pulling your hair.”

“No Mukkun, I should say sorry. Sorry for going too far.”

“Is no one going to say sorry to me? I got most of the hits,” Ginshi grunted, causing the two and Haise to erupt in laughter.

Haise took both of his shoulders and pressed him in for a hug. “Good work.”

“Can I hug you too, Sasaki-sensei?” Tooru shyly stepped forward. Haise gave the affirmative only for Saiko to insist next. Soon enough, most of the children on the playground were vying for a hug with Haise.

Haise chuckled nervously. “Okay, maybe one at a time?”

Thus, in a matter of seconds, another conflict had started in a form of tug of war, his arms being the replacement of the rope.

“Sensei should hug me next!”

“Hah? Sasaki-sensei likes me more!”

Kuki was the only one who didn't participate, watching on with an amused and satisfied expression while Haise struggled with the children in tow.

* * *

 

Hairu looked back at the kindergarten as she was guided by Hirako to the parking lot. “I want to go back. Something is going on.”

Hirako peered down at her. “Like what?”

“I dunno.”

Hairu thought her Hira-ojiichan was smiling-not with his lips though, but with his usually emotionless eyes. He was way more poker-faced than her dad. “You’ll have plenty more chances to have fun tomorrow.”

Hairu smiled back, but with her mouth instead of her eyes, “I hope!” Hairu eagerly elaborated, “I really like this place and Sasaki-sensei’s so nice!”

“Who?”

“Sasaki-sensei. He’s kind and pretty- like a mom might be, I think!”

“Pretty? Like a mother?” Hirako deadpanned.

Hairu shook her head as if she completely understood everything the adult wasn’t saying, “He’s sort of . . . I’m not kidding. He really looks pretty to the point where Tou-chan stared and didn’t say anything.”

“Your father was shocked?”

“Yeah, that!” Hairu giggled at the memory. Maybe she should have been paying closer attention. It was nice to see her father’s expressions.

* * *

 

“Tou-chan!” The inconveniences Arima went through and experienced to manage to pick her up on dismissal the last day of her first week of school became insignificant in value with his daughter smiling from ear to ear.

“Little cherry.” Arima murmured against her pink bubblegum hair. “Hello.”

“Hi!” Hairu returned loudly. “Are you tired?” Hairu asked.

“Only a bit,” he said the understatement so she wouldn’t notice. He was currently operating on only four hours of sleep.

“Take care of yourself,” Hairu said carefully, almost worried.

With that sole reminder, he felt warm and elated with his energy restores, “I will. How was your day?”

Hairu hugged him again as she spoke, “Great! Sasaki-sensei told me knights come from old times.”

“The medieval age.” Arima added, seeing an opportunity.

“Uhn, and he taught me some terms a knight should know,” Hairu proudly said.

“Such as?”

“Chainmail. It's not a message but an armor of a knight. An armor protects, I think.” Hairu continued, “A lance is a sharp narrow thing that is a weapon. Kinda like a cone with a stick. Sasaki-sensei drew it on the ground for me.”

“I'm glad you're extending your vocabulary.” It was a start. Arima might have had exceedingly high expectations for his heir.

“I still have one more.”

“Go on.”

“Chi-val-ry.” Hairu sighed in relief as she got it out right. “Sasaki-sensei said it's really difficult to explain but it's a set of rules a knight has to follow. Something that makes you good.”

“You’re brilliant, Hairu.” A new voice cut in, the type meant to dictate exquisite poems of Hakushu.

Arima didn't know why he held his breath. Haise directed a smile for the both of them. “You managed to remember all that I taught you.”

Hairu beamed in return. “It’s thanks to you, Sensei!” Hairu didn't like to read and often times, she hated the difficult words. Yet she just said some, remembering them and even doing her best to give a meaning to them. Sasaki was a good influence to her.

“You're welcome.” Haise pinched one of her soft cheeks. The teacher’s eyes then fell to Arima’s, “Hello there Arima-san.”

They talked and although Arima didn't necessarily desire a one on one, Hairu stalked off to interact with the rest of the children. Whether she did this out of consideration or not, it was unknown.

“Your daughter is doing great so far. She tends to daydream at times but she is very attentive when she doesn’t. Hairu-chan absorbs information like a sponge,” Haise sang his genuine praise.

“She likes you, doesn't she?” Arima could already tell.

Haise smiled, “She likes it here if that’s what you're asking.”

“You give yourself less credit than you ought to.”  Kishou cocked his head slightly to the side. Would it be crossing the line to think of a grown man endearing and . . . cute?

“Maybe, I’m sparing some credit for you.” Haise emitted a soft bit of laughter that fell like feathers around Arima- gentle and floating.

“Are you now?” Arima was careful with the intonation in his voice. He didn’t want a repeat of Haise misunderstanding his rather dry humor.

“If Hairu-chan likes me as you said, she worships you Arima-san.” Arima directed his gaze to where Haise was looking. His daughter was playing little lamb and wolf with the young boys. “She always talks about you-about you teaching her everything from how to do self-defense to reading, about you tucking her into bed and rushing to her if something was wrong. . . . A long list of all great things her father did.”

Steely grey eyes soften, a sign of his genuine love for her. Arima didn't regret, not once, that she was his child by blood. “She’s my pride.”

“Your wife’s too, I bet,” Haise mentally kicked himself. Why had he let that slip?

Arime blinked, confused, “I’m not married.”

“Oh…” Haise felt a familiar blush begin to color his cheeks. It was happening. This was only the beginning. Arima Kishou had just been labeled as ‘ _available_ ’ and already Haise was wondering what it might be like if he could be the one to change that. “You aren’t?”

Arima nodded.

“Then, a fiancee?”

“Not any time soon.”

“Girlfriend?” Haise felt himself flying off the rails, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Arima didn’t have to, but he wanted to explain-especially since Haise was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place, “She came from a surrogate mother. I raised her as a single parent.”

The male in front of him sighed deeply and covered his features. Arima wasn’t able to figure out the motive behind the actions and before he could even try, Haise gathered his courage, met his eyes, and spoke with an exasperated and semi-relieved face, “That cleared some trouble on my part.”

“Which is…?” How many times would Haise be a fool before the mob boss? Unable to stray from his inquisitive eyes, Haise knew he would be digging his grave if he opened his mouth again.

Arima noticed the blush spreading on the other’s neck. Maybe it was wrong of him to pry-wait, could it be. . .? Haise had further pressed him for his romantic partners, even insisted on an imaginary wife and the relief in Haise’s face when Arima had confirmed he didn't have one was unmistakable.  The probability that the man before him was actually interested could be extracted from these observations and it did strange things to the mob boss, tying his stomach up in knots.  He took a chance and finally broke the small silence, “I wish to see you again. Tomorrow, are you free?”

Haise took a sharp intake of breath; it didn't appease the jitters coursing through him. He truly had dug his own grave by affirming. “In the afternoon, I suppose.”

  
“The Mori Art Museum, 2:30 p.m.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TKFL: The recent tg chapters have put a real downer on us but we have survived. I wonder why the canon angst had to time in with our work. Me and FitM have supported each other throughout and so have all of you uwu. Please hug the fluff because maybe soon enough (if me and FitM feel evil and conspiring) we might just break your hearts ;). Thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> FitM: So like, it's 10,000 words in and not angsty yet? What is TKFL doing to me? :p Okay, okay, with recent canon events, I understand the need.  
> /pat pat /remember that we're all in this together, kids  
> Anyway, I had no idea there would be so many of you looking forward to or excited about our collab; I feel very honored. Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying this. I hope you can enjoy the wild ride we have planned. Also, encourage TKFL to include more Sasako for me, please? Like, the world just needs more Sasako, am I right?


	3. Chapter 3

“Is this better?” Haise raised the light green sweater that was still hanging on a hanger to his chest so that his best friend could get a better look. Then, he quickly switched the sweater with a buttoned-up gray sleeved collared shirt. “Or this..?”

 

His oldest friend, with bleached blonde hair, did not reply verbally. Instead, his whole body shook as he covered his smiling mouth with his hand, unable to contain his laughter.

 

Haise flushed, setting the clothes down on the bed in mock annoyance, “What's so funny?”

 

“Are you-- this excited? You’re like a high school girl on her first date,” Hide continued to laugh. Actually, he loved seeing Haise so flustered, but he loved teasing him for it twice as much.

 

“It’s not a date,” Haise interjected weakly before throwing a pillow at his friend’s ever smiling eyes.

 

“Pretty sure it is.” Hide looked up from the pillow that had temporarily smothered him. Really, Haise didn’t know his strength. He reasoned with his friend, still smiling a mile wide, but no longer laughing, “He  _ wishes to see you again _ , right?”

 

“He’s just curious.” Haise played it down. He didn’t want to get his own hopes up. If there was really something here, then perhaps Hide would pick up on it, and convince him of its reality. He was usually pretty good about recognizing when others liked him.

 

“Well, he can  _ ask _ anything concerning his curiosities in your working hours as a hostess or as a teacher, but he didn’t. Guy asked you out to Roppongi instead. And a museum? He isn’t just curious about what you are, but who you are. Museum dates, are like, only for fourth or fifth dates at the earliest. He really wants to hear you talk.”

 

“Do you just make this stuff up?” Haise was blushing at the words, but Hide only smiled from his place on Haise’s bed. “So,” Haise fished other articles from his closet. He asked a bit quietly this time, starting to get a bit nervous as the reality that maybe Kishou was actually interested in getting to know him settled in, “You think that maybe…”

 

“The mob boss has the hots for you?” Hide grinned widely. “In my opinion,” his best friend scanned him from head to toe in a manner unacceptable to the public’s eye. “I wouldn’t want to miss a chance with you, ‘Neki--Mr. Sexy Pants.” He even gave an exaggerated wink to see if he could get a rise out of Haise in his currently very distracted state.

 

A soft, dark blue t-shirt that was far too casual for the date was draped over Hide’s head. “It’s  _ Haise _ now,” he wasn’t sure how many times he’d reminded Hide of this over the years, “and please don’t ever refer to me with that horrible nickname ever again.” Haise smiled nonetheless, at ease. “And you had your chance.”

 

“Still,” Hide plucked off the fabric obscuring his view before going on, “After finding out your other job and real gender, he asked you out. I think he’s taken with you.”

 

The bed creaks with new body weight as Haise adjusted to a squatting position across his friend. He raised an eyebrow, clearly teasing him, “Jealous?”

 

“I usually have you all to myself, so it isn't jealousy.” Hide scratched his head. “Just worried. He  _ is _ Arima Kishou, after all. I’d be lying if I wasn’t just . . . concerned for your safety maybe.” Hide didn’t realize his own cheeks had colored slightly.

 

A mob boss who knew of two of Haise’s three identities.  

 

Haise, who was already uncertain of his decision, felt discouraged when he heard of his best friend’s opinion. He curled his fists slightly; maybe Hide was right and it was a reckless move to accept Arima’s invitation. But, it had been so long since he had felt a certain way towards someone. Haise could not easily forget Arima Kishou.

 

A warm hand cupped his cheek. Unsettled gray was reflected on warm honey brown. Hide gently elicited, “Hey.” 

 

Haise fell inside his best best-friend’s eyes and leaned into his touch. Hide's hands were slightly callous but they were comfortable, nostalgic, and familiar to Haise. Hide’s gentle affections always made things a bit better although, this time, the nervousness Haise had was almost nauseating. 

 

His mind was clear of thought when a pair of slightly chapped lips touched his. Haise blinked, but his surprise faded within the moment, liking the pleasant and familiar sensation. He opened his mouth to receive the kiss. 

 

Haise held the other’s forearm for support as the kisses continued and the two shifted to share their affections more comfortably. One of Hide’s hands pressed into the small of Haise’s back, moving him closer. Haise felt himself relax as Hide’s other hand cupped his jaw and gently moved it back so that he could continue kisses down Haise’s neck. It took him minutes before Haise finally pulled himself out of the dream and back to reality in which he’d been getting ready for----

 

Right, his date with Arima! His denial of it being one was not as convincing as he previously thought.

 

Haise released his hold on Hide, hands pressed flat on the other’s chest, “We should stop.”

 

“Hmm.” Hide paused in mock contemplation and then resumed, all the while saying in between kisses,“Nah, we should keep going.” 

 

It had been nearly ten years Hide and himself had been engaging in such acts off and on, but he still had such difficulty in resisting the blonde. One of these days, he would need to train himself for resistance; Hide so easily made him weak.

 

“Hideeee,” Haise whined childishly to get the other to stop.

 

“'Nekiii,” Hide always had a way around with humor in all types of situations, but he respected Haise and moved his mouth distance enough away so that he could smile mischievously.

 

“Hide, stop,” Haise was smiling as he pushed his friend away gently and moved Hide’s hands to sit neatly in Hide’s lap and away from him. “You understand that if Arima and I actually start dating, we can’t keep doing this.”

 

Hide laughed openly, blushing only slightly by some amount of misplaced guilt, “Of course, 

‘Neki! Need I remind you that I have survived three of your previous choices- during which I never laid a finger on you? What do you take me for? I’m not a wife stealer!”

 

Haise rolled his eyes and laughed, “I’m not a woman and-” he threw the discarded blue t-shirt on top of his best friend’s head again, “We’re going to a museum- not getting married!”

 

“But you already fit the depiction of ‘ _ blushing bride _ ’ so well,” Hide said beneath the shirt. He didn’t need to see Haise’s face to know that his cheeks were a shade of pink. It was good that Haise had finally taken an interest in someone else. He could be happy for him, of course, even if it meant an end to their casual encounters once more.

 

“Why do I put up with you?” Haise asked.

 

The affection in Haise’s voice really was answer enough to his own question, but Hide took the opportunity to list off his most important qualities “I’m handsome. I’m hilarious. I make a killer hamburger steak. I’m the best sex you’ve ever had. I-”

 

“Stop right there. We’ve been over this.” His index finger poked the upper right of Hide’s chest.  “ _ Shuu _ was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

 

“‘Neki, you wound me!” Hide pulled off the shirt from his head so his oldest friend could see how properly distraught he was . . . or was pretending to be. “But I’m the  _ second _ best, right?”

 

“Oh hush.” Haise reached for one of the clothes from the pile at the corner. “This shirt?” he held up a cotton flesh v-neck.  “How about this one?” 

 

Hide rummaged through the pile, picking up his own choice. “Nothing says ‘bang me’ like a skin tight black shirt that’s netted in the back.”

 

“Why do I even ask?” It had been a gift from Shuu and although it was  _ sexy _ as Hide put it, he wanted to appear proper the first time. His back met with the mattress. 

 

“Wear the type of clothes you’re comfortable with.” Hide advised, falling on his back beside him.

 

“So, would my usual sweaters work?” Haise asked hopefully, staring at the ceiling.

 

“Not clothes you're  _ too _ comfortable with.” Hide reasoned with a grin.

 

“Right,” Haise sighed. 

Arima, their head, their well respected and always busy head, was walking past his men in smart, casual clothes. It clearly wasn’t what he typically wore- the same suit he wore every day, and it wasn’t what he wore around the house, either. In a word, he looked _fashionable_. Which, when combined with his already effortless good looks, made him look like a supermodel that had just walked out of a magazine spread. He almost never dressed in this manner; it happened only on the rare occasion that he had enough time to take Hairu out to play or shop himself. When Koori saw that Hairu wasn’t in tow, the cigarette in his mouth nearly fell as he gaped in disbelief. He quickly caught it between his fingers before his boss would notice.  Koori “Need a chaperone?”

 

“I would like to have some privacy for today,” Arima said as he smoothed out his gray vest. 

 

“Arima are you,” Koori felt his mouth going dry, “Are you going out on a  _ date _ ?” The younger male had heard of a mystery girl recently, from Fura, but he hadn't heard of her since almost a week since. Fura only shook his head when he tried to ask. 

 

“I’m meeting someone at an art museum.” 

 

Koori kept himself from swearing most of the time, but with his boss actually setting for a date, he felt most inclined. “Shit, you're going on a date.”

 

Arima frowned slightly, “Is something wrong with that?”

 

“No, not at all--” Koori turned his head away, mouthing to the nosy subordinates in the background to disperse. “Just enjoy your day with her, boss.”

 

Arima gave a blank stare as he debated whether or not he should correct him. “...It’s not a woman.” 

 

Koori raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly, “So you're meeting with a friend then?”

 

“I am going on a date.” Arima reiterated. 

 

What Arima said seemed to make the other flustered as a shade of pink began to color his face, “But you said--” He took a long drag of his cigarette.

 

“Yes, but I’m not meeting a woman.” Arima didn’t understand what part of this Ui was not comprehending.

 

“W-What are you saying…?” Koori shakily exhaled the smoke.

 

“I’m going on a date with a man,” Arima clarified with finality. 

 

“O-oh,” Koori looked away, his cheeks reddening. Arima liked women  _ and  _ men. That was fine. Of course, it was fine. It meant that Arima could have a relationship with pretty much anyone in the house if he wanted- Hirako or Taishi or- Ui covered his face with his hands in shame.  _ Nononono _ . His mind had wandered to where it never should have. Arima on his back. Arima above him as he-

 

Ui’s mind went blank as the blush traveled further to his ears and partly down his neck. He had never-not once-thought of his boss like this. What was wrong with him? Arima was to be respected,  _ even in his thoughts, _ so why-why was it impossible to remove the image of him panting beneath him as-

 

“Koori, are you alright?” Arima asked with as much concern as his monotone allowed for.

 

“I’m f-fine, boss. Please enjoy your date!” He stammered, cigarette falling from his lips. He felt his face combusting into flames with all the ridiculous notions he thought of.  _ Seven hells, Koori.  _ He ended his words with a cough as he nearly choked on the smoke of his cigarette.

 

Arima wouldn’t press the issue, “Of course. Thank you.”

Haise arrived at the Mori Tower 15 minutes prior to their agreed time. He arrived exactly on time whenever meeting someone, because he preferred it much more over being the earlier one. Still,  he felt restless. Maybe the thought that all this was happening had not completely sunk in. Taking a quick glance at the structure he was entering to, a smile spread on his face. He’d been to many places in Tokyo, but the Mori Tower had always been one of his favorites. 

 

To gain access to the Mori Art Museum at the 53rd floor, one had to enter and purchase a ticket inside a structure next to the base of the building. It was called the Mori Cone and it never failed to impress him. The spiral stairs complimented the funnel it coiled around and then the transparent glass panels placed smartly at the outline of the Cone’s structure lit up at night… It had been a nice place but compared to what was at the top? The Mori Cone was only an introduction to a place that highlighted art as if it lived and breathed as much as the city it had found itself in.  

 

Some three minutes after climbing the long set of stairs, Haise arrived at the area where tickets were being sold. He adjusted the cuffs of his cardigan as he went inside the vicinity. All he needed to do now was to wait-- Haise stopped in his tracks, spotting a tall man leaning on a wall meters away from him.

 

Haise took his glasses from where they were hiding in his pocket and put them on. He didn’t have bad vision but, just to make sure that he had been seeing right, he used his spectacles. “Arima-san?” The mob boss arrived earlier than he had. He felt… pleasantly surprised by this. Waiting for him had been sweet of Arima, so it would be perfectly normal that he had his heart skip just a little or so he told himself. 

 

Arima turned in his direction, “Haise?” 

 

“Good afternoon.” Haise walked up to him, offering a small head bow for basic courtesy- that, and to hide the reddening cheeks. Arima certainly understood the definition of being impeccably dressed. “Sorry if I made you wait.”

 

“Not at all.” Arima restrained any possible sign of excess elation from surfacing. They agreed to meet at 2:30, but it had been before 2:20 that they did. It didn't hurt to see Haise wear attire that really suited him, either. He turned forward, having Haise at his side in what could be considered a close proximity. “Shall we go?” 

“Are you a fan of minimalism?” Haise asked as he scanned one side of the room that had a completely plain white wall with a black marble geometric figure in stark contrast. The exhibits always changed, so did the appearances of the vicinity. The details of the ever-changing background were worth considering and appreciating. 

 

“People argue against the simplicity presented,” Arima offered. 

 

Haise shook his head and then looked him in the eye. “I’m asking for your opinion Arima-san. _ Your _ thoughts.” 

 

Arima turned to face the wall, careful to hide a small smile at Haise’s inquiry, “It’s authentic.” Arima paid attention to the details of the figure. It felt like something of a small victory when Haise had pressed for his personal opinion, and victories were always welcome. “Yes, the works based on minimalist art is plain but the concept of it is well thought of, only highlighting the essential elements of an object, and leaving out unnecessary ones.”

 

“I share the same sentiment. For example, school desks look better without materials being haphazardly placed. And should there be anything on its surface, it should just be a pencil case, notebook or-,” Haise remembered Urie being the sole orderly kid in his class, pencil and eraser neatly arranged next to his notebook. The rest of his students’ desks, on the other hand, had been… abstract. He couldn’t blame them. It would be strange to see young children without their favorite toys, colorful drawings or messy writings. One had even left a mini fort of eraser bits on his own desk. “As you said, seeing only the things needed are with desirable effects.” Still, the messes the children made were part of what warmed his heart. Haise wasn’t able to do so at their age. It was important to Haise to allow for children to be just that- children.

 

“Is my daughter's desk untidy?”

 

“Untidy isn't the exact word,” Haise smiled easily. The way Arima said his question with grave seriousness despite the lameness of it--but wouldn’t all parents be that way-- was endearing. “More often than not, she has an abundance of intricate drawings and has an interesting decor of flowers she carefully plucked from the school’s garden.”

 

Arima didn’t reply to that, and he didn’t smile. He did not need to; Haise could tell of his joy with how those eyes turned warm at the mention.

 

They stopped a step short before another display. It was a large picture of a woman posing on a white pristine bed. It was a woman with a pair of unevenly amputated legs. “Katayama Mari.” Haise breathed in awe, “Do you know her, Arima-san?”

 

“No,” Arima gazed at the display, then at Haise who emanated enthusiasm upon viewing the piece.

 

“She’s beautiful,” Saying his complement in such a way that would leave no room for argument, Arima knew she was a favorite of his. “What caught your eye in this portrait?”

 

Her legs would be the immediate answer but, Arima analyzed how well her jet black hair and red lips complemented the white, and how her sharp eyes gazed into focus as if silently stating that she was not ashamed one bit of her circumstance. There was effort in all this, her grace and edge; like Sasako, like him. “Her disposition.”

 

Haise nodded, taking in every detail of the display. “Mari had a certain deficiency, resulting up to amputation. If you take a closer look, her other hand only has three fingers. Even through all this, she successfully caught the attention of art and model critics. People don’t like her only because of her special circumstance, but of what she does with what she has. Mari made herself the model of her own works and showcased her boldness. She wasn’t ashamed of all that’s happened to her and even made her supposed weakness into a strength.That, to me, is vital.”

 

Arima started to see, to be aware of who Sasako--Haise really was. More than a pretty face, he held insight. And that, Arima discovered, was the main reason why he was favored by many. “You could connect to her works.” 

 

“I saw myself in them.” Haise didn’t elaborate more on what he said and moved on. Arima didn’t ask either. He felt that it was a matter, if Haise would be willing, to be prodded on at a later time. 

 

“Do you,” Haise assessed the area in its entirety, searching. “Have a favorite artist somewhere here?”

 

“Fukahori Riusuke.” Arima mimicked his act, only he was scanning for a particular work. 

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” His well-manicured brows pinched slightly and he stood brooding. Arima could not hide his smile any longer. For someone who certainly hid certain things, Haise was an incredibly expressive person. Whether in the way he moved or the intricacies of his facial expressions, Haise was more telling to someone as analytical as Arima was than he may have liked. “Was he the one behind the works of  _ The Sea _ and  _ Setcho _ ?”

 

“Yes.” Haise smiled, something he’d been doing from the first time they met and something Arima will never get tired of. His smiles, while frequent, had different meanings and degrees of emotion behind them. This one suggested an association of enthusiasm and triumph-perhaps over the little fact he had it right. Arima would do best to store this smile away for future reference to be compared to the others Haise had thus far shared with him as well as the many more that he couldn’t help but hope were on their way.

 

Arima beckoned his companion to follow him, having spotted Riusuke’s work at the far end. Because the artist had a particular fondness for goldfish, it was relatively easy to recognize when the displays were his.

 

“It’s unexpected.” Haise openly stated, going over the artwork with an earnest expression, “I would have never thought that he was a favorite of yours.”

 

The taller of the two stared, looking a bit lost. “I see.” 

 

Haise could almost see Arima’s inner turmoil where he appeared to currently be choosing to either keep his mouth shut or give a long story in his defense. 

 

“It’s not bad.” Haise helpfully supplied, “But I am curious as to how he came to be your favorite.”

 

“New York,” Deft fingers pushed the bridge of Arima’s glasses slightly. “I was visiting a gallery. There was an exhibit on his works. With how refined and sharpened the details were, one could say he was certain of his passion.”

 

“An artist with a love for goldfish? A smile Arima had previously seen blossomed on the other’s face, and Arima recognized it instantly.

 

Arima did not frown at Haise’s apparent amusement, but he did go on to say, without expression, “You may laugh.”

 

“No, I wouldn't. I take back what I said about him being a favorite a surprise.” Haise looked on at the art piece, but that same smile remained “You are the type who would wholly devote himself to those important to him.” Haise recalled the thoughtful tenderness the mob boss used towards his newest student. It was clear that she was his whole world and that what Arima appreciated in Riusuke’s work was likely an attribute he, himself strived to attain whether he may have realized it or not.

  
  


Haise refrained from voicing his admiration. Despite everything Arima was involved in, he did everything he could to ensure the happiness and well-being of one little girl. He indulged a moment to reflect upon himself as Arima continued to admire the painting. They were both caught in a web they had spun around themselves, but their feelings for those who became trapped beside them went beyond a sense of responsibility or duty. 

  
  


They spent the rest of the afternoon surveying the art, slowly sharing their thoughts and their insights. It was pleasant and, more importantly, the afternoon simply felt  _ right _ . It was a rare thing that Haise felt so relaxed around someone They went from Minori’s self-portraits to Chiho Aoshima’s landscapes. Often times, the company Haise would bring to museums would find themselves out of place or would even, quite shamelessly, would appear to doze off as Haise would explain the artist’s technique or purpose behind the works. 

 

Hide had almost fallen on a sculpture were it not for him. This happened after they stopped to see four works.  _ Four. _ Touka had immediately expressed her displeasure when Haise had invited her one time. Even Nishiki, who was known to be impatient, tolerated a museum visit- though it did help that Kimi was there and Haise had been the third wheeler. A certain policeman he dated only showed confusion. It was cute but, he wished for a companion who would be equal in enthusiasm and moderation. The closest he’d ever come to finding someone to share in his interest of art was Shuu, but, although Shuu did share his enthusiasm, it was expressed in quantities that Haise could never quite keep up with. Shuu’s presence demanded the attention of others and his flamboyant gestures and passionate commentary always attracted unwanted guests. He needed someone with equal passion and composure- for example, Arima. Finally, he had the perfect museum companion. Perfect?

 

Haise snuck a glance in Arima’s direction. There was not a single sign of drowsiness or irritation. Unlike Shuu, who naturally attracted others, those who gazed upon Arima only turned quickly away which meant they were left alone to enjoy the museum together. Arima had a type of patience Haise admired, but there was more to it than that. “I believe we’ve come across every single artwork in this place.”

 

“There’s still the infinity room,” Arima answered. 

 

Haise brightened up as his thoughts focused solely on what they were actually here for. “Yayoi Kusama’s.” When they made their way over to the installation, however, he deflated when he saw no one lining up to the room, meaning the installation was closed for the day.

 

“Not yet,” Arima murmured and tugged his hand slightly as they walked. 

 

The attendant who guarded the infinity room entrance was about to wave them off but froze at the sight of his taller companion. Wordlessly, he allowed them to enter. At the same time. Haise frowned at the easy access. Wasn't the entrance to the room one at a time? He knew the man was a mob boss but for his influence to stretch as far as this museum was something else. 

 

“Sasaki?” Seeing the man with his eyebrows pinched slightly and lips in a firm line was endearing, to say the least. Arima knew that finding so many expressions on the man’s face endearing was turning out to be a problem but he personally couldn’t help it. However abundant Arima’s fascination was, however, he couldn’t hide his concern. Had he upset Haise in some way already?

 

Haise observed him quietly, hearing his name, but not processing a response. By the looks of it, Arima did not do things like these often. No, Haise corrected his own line of thinking, he seemed to not do things like these often  _ with _ a partner- with actual company. Had Arima ever gone out on a date? Haise shook the thought out of his head but could not stop feeling that he had been special if he was the first. Hide was right when he said that he was comparable to a high school girl. 

 

“Are you alright?” Arima asked, a tinge of concern coming through in his tone.

 

“Y-yes.” Haise flushed a bit, reeled back to reality. How does one forget to respond?

 

And at that moment, he registered the magic in the room he entered in. The walkway was small, large enough only for the two of them, and the black path went only three meters into the room. Water surrounded them when they reached the platform, and when the door closed, they were transported to the end of eternity. The mirrored walls and ceiling sent a million little lights in every direction as the water below them reflected the same. The tiny lantern lights shone against the black room akin to a galaxy. An infinity of souls spread out with a burning brightness. Amongst this magic were two people reflected back at every mirror. For a moment, Haise attempted to show Yayoi his respect for her work by letting go of his suspension of disbelief. They truly weren’t in a small room in the Mori Museum in Roppongi Tokyo; they had been sent instead to a formless and undying place where only the two of them existed. Instead of feeling alone or frightened, however, Haise felt himself in a rare state of peace. He wasn’t alone, anyway, Arima was-

 

He turned up to look at Kishou only to notice immediately that the man, instead of taking in the beauty of their surroundings, was staring right at him. 

 

Haise felt heat on his cheeks, but before he could say a word, Kishou covered one of Haise’s hands in his own. A smile surfaced, floating up to spread his lips in gentle affection at the touch. Haise moved the same hand to lace their fingers together as the tiny lights hanging around them multiplied beyond imagination as the reflections began to glow brighter and brighter. 

Due to strong winds, the tower’s sky deck was closed off to all visitors, squashing the chance for constellation viewing-an activity that supposedly followed after spectating artworks. They opted for a walk instead in the garden just outside the tower. The place was humble but ultimately pleasant.

 

“Tell me something about yourself,” Haise said out of the blue.

 

Arima paused, taken off guard by the harmless question. They talked the entire afternoon, but it was mostly Haise who steered the topics of their conversation, with him asking questions pertaining to the male. Arima realized that he’d only made known parts about himself if Haise would ask. Without the guidance of what exactly Haise would like to know, he quite frankly didn't know where to start.

 

His social skills for casual talk was laughable at best. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Haise’s soft voice pulled him out of his reverie.

 

“What would you like to know?” Arima countered, hoping for more direction.

 

Haise squeezed at the place where their hands were linked and beamed, eyes twinkling,  “Anything is fine.”

 

“I…” Arima began, but then hushed when Haise spoke again.

 

“Arima-san, I want to get to know you better, so, anything you’d be willing to share with me, I would happily listen to.” Haise sounded sincere, and Arima smiled slightly as he did.

 

“I’m not one for socializing,” Arima started. “Of course, my work entails talks-negotiations, rather,  but I press little effort to interact if it’s unnecessary.” Arima paused to look out at the pond. He wasn’t seeing it, clearly, because his eyes appeared to be searching the waters for the next thing to say, “You already know my knowledge of books, but I never mentioned that poems are my favorite form of literature, especially Hakushu’s.” He paused again, searched their surroundings once more, and went on to something new, “I know the catchphrase and pose of a Super Sentai character.” 

 

“Super Sentai.” Haise was nearly incredulous.

 

“Super Sentai.” Arima repeated. “Hairu wouldn't be satisfied until I would imitate the white one with the rest.”

 

“Your subordinates joined in?” Haise offered an opening to both extend the conversation and learn more about his relationships with others.

 

“My right hand and some,” Arima admitted. 

 

Haise threw his head back, laughing. “That is an interesting picture. Really cute.”

 

Arima resigned himself to the title cute, since this was Haise-Haise who he was comfortable with, who saw him as a normal person and who set his heart aflutter. He found himself laughing with him, only much more quietly.

 

They both looked on, fixated at the figure standing proudly near the edge of the pond. A string of golden pearls in an outline of a heart- at least that’s what it appeared to be from the angle they were viewing it. Haise held his silence with him, simply taking in all they needed to appreciate. Even with it being someone he was interested in, he had not expected the day to pass so peacefully. 

 

After what seemed to be a millennia, the shorter of the two began his curiosities once more and smiled up at the other,“Tell me more, Arima-san.”

It was official; Fura was  _ terrified _ .

 

The day before, his boss arrived at the household with a smile-if you could consider a very  _ very _ tiny twitch of his lips as a smile. Arima had just come home from a date with Sasako, or rather, Haise. Haise, the innocent pre-school teacher had put that smile on Arima’s face? But of course, the chances were very low, right, given that Arima would never date his child's teacher in a million years? Fura decided not to disclose anything about his suspicions to anyone, not even Ui, because he saw it best to seek answers himself. On that day however, Ui told him quite angrily and flusteredly that no one told him it was a  _ man _ Arima had become interested in. The confirmation from Ui that Arima was interested in the teacher left Fura to wonder just where his boss’s intentions lay and left him confused and restless for even more answers.

 

Going back, the reason for his own terror was due to Arima's behavior. He seemed normal at first, until,  . . . the smiles and uplifted moods began to surface seemingly without a catalyst. Fura shivered at the memory of yesterday where Arima had simply smiled while signing a paper which had disclosed details that were not entirely pleasant to stomach. His boss had even chuckled at something on his phone, too. Laughed, too, at one point . . .

 

Arima. Never. Laughed.

 

Unless it was Hairu-related, of course. 

 

Fura had every intention to hook him up with Sasako, maybe lift the perpetual frown on the mob boss’s face, but he wasn't ready for  _ this _ . It was too effective. It only served to make him wonder just how incredible that date of his really was.

 

Fura could almost not stop himself from gaping at Arima- who now emanated sheer anticipation. When did the mob boss ever express emotion like a normal human being would? He would have assumed that the exception was Hairu. Always Hairu. But, relying on his expression, it felt like his boss was waiting on something else. 

 

His questions would finally be answered today. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for what lay ahead, but he at least had an idea of what to prepare himself for.

 

“They’re out now.” The children burst forth from the door like an avalanche, excited to play freely and meet their parents. Then, the teachers, the smaller strata of this institution, came out ushering the last batch of kids. No Sasako or Hairu in sight. 

 

Fura could see the outline of a pair coming out, the little squirt probably, accompanied by her advisor, a male teacher. So where the hell was-? Sunlight shined on their features the first steps out, and he saw it then. 

 

“Well shit.” 

 

The adult scanned the area expectantly, and threw a million watt smile in their direction, afterwards telling Hairu probably where her dad was. They both waved, and Arima returned the waving gesture with the fondest smile Taishi had seen on him. Hairu whispered something back at Haise, and then ran off with the rest of the kids still waiting to be picked up. Arima shifted his gaze to the teacher only and Fura was sure they were sharing a moment. 

 

“Shit.”

 

Fura reviewed the facts: Sasako, the hostess, wasn’t really a woman, and was, in fact, a man, a pretty boy who apparently had a talent for making Arima all smiley. Arima is more than just smiley, however, and appears- appears- to really like the guy.  The pretty girl not only turned out to be a pretty boy, but that pretty boy is also Hairu’s teacher. Hairu has clearly already approved. Fura pauses on the last detail. Yeah, the hostess turned teacher already has Hairu’s approval. A guy that suspicious had already passed inspection for the one person whose opinion mattered most to Arima.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Fura pressed the nope button on that. If this pretty boy was a hostess by night and could easily slip into the role of a teacher by day, wasn't there a perilous touch to it? It was more than odd; it reeked of  _ criminal _ . What was Arima thinking? There was no way this would end well. Was he thinking at all? Taishi watched as the two parted and he couldn’t help but answer his own rhetorical question. Arima wasn’t thinking at all; he couldn’t be- not with that look in his eyes.

 

“Uh, Arima,” he asked when his old friend joined him, “You’re not, like, serious right?”

 

Arima side eyed his right-hand, the concern he showed was baffling. Didn't Taishi want him to consider other options in his life? “I am.”

 

Taishi did not hold back, “This isn't a great idea. I mean, it was fine when she was a hostess and I know that gender isn't an issue but he's your kid’s teacher-and that-I mean both of those things together-they’re . . .” Taishi trailed off, a little pale.

 

“He has piqued my interest.” Arima focused on the male being clung to by the children. The man couldn’t be any more trouble than he was, himself,  _ right _ ?

 

Even if the mob boss tried another alternative, he couldn't. Those gleaming bright gray eyes promising warmth and intrigue had effectively trapped him in.

 

Taishi would not be able to convince Arima this was wrong alone; he’d need the others help as well. He’d have to look into this guy- Sasaki Haise. It was already too obvious that he spelled trouble.

Sasako sighed as she stood up from the plush seat. Along with other hostesses who had begun to mask their contempt for the customer they were serving tonight, she began with a smile and a flip of her hair as she ascended the stairs. The man guarded by two others eyed the women serving them in a way that would make anyone uncomfortable.

 

Moriyama Kaito, a VIP customer. He made big money out of drug trade, but made more on trafficking children. More often than not, the prostitutes he would purchase for the evening would wind up dead the following day- possibly not even in one piece. News of his sick tendencies had even reached this club’s ears. Mama Aura had been weary of accepting his VIP reservations, but had no other choice in the matter as the higher-ups wanted to extract info on him- something about a potential partnership. They knew he wasn't clean. Then again, the underworld of Tokyo never quite was; it was more on the fact that he had to be  _ clean enough _ .

 

“Welcome.” The hostesses bowed in unison.

 

Sasako looked through her long lashes as they sat down, certain that Moriyama was looking at her now. She threw a coy smile, and she watched him take a big gulp out of his liquor, beady eyes eyeing her like she was a piece of meat to be devoured. No matter how repulsed she was, she needed to immerse herself in the role of a submissive as it was clearly what Moriyama was after. Acting was in her skillset and a requirement of her job; to think that men came here expecting anything less was beyond her understanding.

 

Her fair hands held the bottle delicately as sweetly asked, “Another glass?”

  
_ Hook, line, and sinker. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TKFL: Sorry for the very late update! We've been both busy in real life so it's been difficult. I hope you guys understand. So, do you guys have an inkling of what Haise's other job is? XD it's up to Taishi to figure it out since Arima has fallen in too deep with Haise ahahahaha.
> 
> FitM: Please forgive me for the wait. Thank you for reading and for waiting~


	4. Chapter 4

Being a hostess has its privileges. If you were good at your job, you’d  earn a decent pay, you could bond with fellow ladies after your shift, you were able to dress practically like a princess while strutting around  in a really wicked pair of heels and, if you were lucky, you could end up with a regular customer. The luckiest even earned regulars who were rich and somehow still gentleman. It was like finding a one of those European knights in shining armour, but like those knights, they were few and far between, and most hostesses never attained such status. So, even when they were blessed with regular customers who weren’t gentleman, they had to maintain the duties required of them., A hostess had to serve, to please any master, to act like they enjoyed what they were doing, no matter what it was, and, finally, to submit.

Submitting to men wasn’t always bad even if it did only encourage the perpetual faults of Japanese society.  Submitting to men belonging to the category of scum, though, the ones who indulged in any power they had over another--whether female or not, however? Well, it was a skill in and of itself to keep a pretty smile on one’s face.

It's far more difficult, far more taxing to restrain the urge to punch the asshole in the face and rub the dirty underside of one’s stiletto against a wall of fat generated by the use of riches made from dirty origins. If only such people could be squashed like the insects they were.

A situation that exemplifies just that was happening right now. A wandering hand managed to slip under the hem of Sasako’s dress, thumbing the soft patch of her thigh just above where her stockings ended and her bare skin began. Sasako's close to strangling her _valued_ customer. It isn’t so much that he’s making such a move on her as that it is the fact that he can make any such move towards any woman. She swallowed the rage threatening to burst from her fine seams when she slowly, tentatively, extracted that nauseating hand that wandered far too much. Moriyama, the swine, was about to voice a complaint but it was silenced quickly as Sasako tactfully put that very hand on the curve of her left hip, pulling out a sultry look and a suggestive tone to match. “You have all the time, Moriyama-sama. You don't have to rush.” Sasako even added a pout for full effect. “Where's the fun in that?”

_Damn it, I sound really suggestive_ , Haise mentally cursed himself for how easy it was for him to play his part as Sasako.

The customer laughed boisterously, clearly entertained and clearly horny as he hooked her to his side rather roughly. Sasako maintained a facade of happy acquiescence, despite the fact that she’d rather gut him. Sasako snuck a glance at her fellow hostesses. She saw the discomfort underneath the polished act. At the very least, they wouldn't be harassed much as Moriyama had clearly made her his favorite for tonight. She needed to keep it that way.

“How do you like it so far?” Sasako traced small circles at his chest, peeking up from her long, thick lashes, a gesture that made most men weak in the knees. “This club? The ladies?”

Moriyama whistled, “I like it so far. Fine whiskey, fine women, and also, since you're so good to me, fine ass”

Sasako masked her disgust, toying with his gold chains a little. He’d clearly had too much to drink by this point if he were naming body parts so casually, “Oh? We’re glad to be of service.” When had all of this become so easy for him?

A moment from now, there would be an opening.

There was a heavy thud and a splash.

“-Shit!” She hid a smile behind her well placed hand that appeared in front of her mouth out of surprise. While her dear customer was busy ogling her earlier, he had not taken note that she set back the champagne dangerously close to the edge of the table where he was seated. Sasako noticed that he tended to stretch his stout legs every now and then, and one of his shoes would hit the table’s leg, so she knew she devised a plan with a major chance of success. Sasako procured a napkin from a hidden pocket of her dress and went on her knees to wipe his pant leg while the rest scrambled to clean the mess.

“I am so sorry!” Her voice shook with a nearly seductive trill, a sign of distress and panic with a masked bit of promise. Sasako smoothed the damp fabric, straightened the lapels of his suit jacket where her hands lingered a little too long, and made sure to part her lips with her eyes still wide as she spoke, “Is there any way we can compensate?” She slipped in a black chip in the pocket of his jacket without so much as a blink.

As per usual, no one noticed. Everything according to plan.

Moriyama looked furious at first, if his red face was anything to go by. “Do you know how much this suit costs? Or my shoe?” But, when their eyes met, his voice did soften just a touch as if captured by her spell.

Ah, the typical outburst. Sasako knew how to address it and went on with practiced hands and smooth words, “Sir, we had no way of knowing that would--”

He was clearly only trying to see what he could get out of her at this point, “I won't spend a single cent for this poor service. Couldn't you be more careful?!”

“Moriyama-sama, there must be another way-” He grabbed her face suddenly, the fat digits of his grubby hand crushing her cheeks. It took everything in Haise not to make quick work of of the man’s face that had now broken out in a sneer that highlighted his ugliness.

“Another way? Everything on me has more worth than all of your salaries combined.” Sasako would snort at that if she weren’t in her current position. Certainly this guy didn't know how valued they were and how high their rates were. Moriyama’s breath ghosted over her cheek, “Show me a good time and maybe I'll forget this happened.”

Oh, this was just too much. Clearly the man had lost all reason if he had any to begin with. Should she play along? Big risk. Scream then? Uproar. Fight back? Exposure. Before Sasako could devise an alternative, her opportunity to even respond is thrown out the window when Sayuri does it for her. By some act of God, Sayuri manages to pull her away from him, screaming profanities at him all the while and using a strength Sasako had no idea she had. Moriyama slapped the other girl’s arm hard, but Sayuri managed to wrangle Sasako out of his grasp. Both women fell back to the floor below him, not injured from the impact beyond being temporarily stunned as they regained their bearings.

Moriyama raised his fist closed this time, and the reality of what was about to happen clicked in Sasako’s head. He wouldn't dare… _But he would_ , Sasako thought as she sprung to her feet and into action, covering for Sayuri. She tasted copper when the impact landed. _Assholes like that would._

“Oh my god! Sasako!” Sayuri scrambled to go to her side, while the other two hostesses came to shield her. Sasako almost wanted to smile despite all the pain.

Before Moriyama could do anything, a sharp voice cut into the VIP space. “That's enough.”

Sasako was helped to her to feet when she saw it. She saw the glorious spectacle of their VIP customer looking intimidated at the sight of their Mama Aura. The usually pleasant and graceful look she had was now a scowl that no one ever wanted to be the receiving end of. Their furious Mama Aura. She had two bouncers behind her, but they hardly held the same of level of intimidation she alone inspired.

“Moriyama, I see the little respect you've given to my ladies,” Kiyoko glanced at Sasako once and she wondered how bad she looked especially when Kiyoko’s face turned momentarily grim. “You've also done damage to one of my gems. I don't think you would be of delight here.”

Moriyama spat on the floor. “I'm paying for this shit and all I've got was wine stains and no fucking action--”

“This is a hostess club. There's a brothel a block over if you want an escort.”

“What-”

Everyone's eyes went wide when Kiyoko's expression turned murderous. She’d only heard stories of Aura as one of the feared and lethal sect leaders of the yakuza back then, before Aura managed Shiran. It was in the flesh now, that woman who was given utmost respect by her clan. Arima’s clan. Sasako was certain Moriyama was shitting his pants now. “Dear customer, pay according to the hourly rate, apologize to my ladies and get the fuck out of my club. If I see you again here, you won't come out unscathed, Mr. Moriyama.”

He froze, cold swimming in his veins.

Sasako really wanted to cackle now. Moriyama was relatively a big name in the underworld, but he'd be no match against their Mama. Moriyama slammed the bills on their table and stormed off, brushing past Aura. Once he left, Kiyoko dismissed the bouncers and went to her girls.

“How did you know?” Sasako winced a little when fingers touched her likely bruising cheek.

“Maya alerted me with her buzzer. The one you don't bother to ever use.” Aura turned to look at the rest, “I’ll give you five minutes to freshen up in the break room. After that, resume your duties. I’ll take care of Sasako.”

Despite being in a high end club, it didn’t guarantee the hostesses safety from harm and harassment from their clients at times. Kiyoko had given them all alert devices and advised them to have it on their person should the situation call for it. She had a small tablet to monitor their alerts as she synced all of their buzzers to it. Sasako rarely used hers as she almost always managed to rectify trouble with regular customers, and because of that, she tended to forget that it even existed. She honestly thought it was unnecessary, but Kiyoko always prioritized their safety.

“Next time.” Sasako eased in with a smile.

She earned a disapproving look from Kiyoko.

When Sasako noticed the other hostesses’ reluctance to leave her, she waved them off. “I’ll be fine. Mama Aura will tend to me.”

Sayuri held Sasako’s hand for a little, contrite in her features. “I’m sorry for the trouble, and thank you for shielding me.”

“No problem. Besides, it’s a waste if your pretty face got hurt.” Sasako winked.

Sayuri flushed, but was no doubt used to her antics. “Yours too, you know.” With that, she left along with the others.

Kiyoko fixed her with a stern look. Sasako sucked in a breath; she prepared herself for the lecture of her life. “You could have alerted me, Sasako.”

“I forgot to bring the buzzer."

“You could have done something in your defense.” Kiyoko knew she had at least an inkling of self-defense in her background as she had made quite the fist fight last year on behalf of protecting the others. She sort of contributed to the cause of Kiyoko giving the buzzers as her methods at times were unbecoming of the club.

“He was a VIP customer. I know he was of some importance at least. He was vital to the higher-ups, wasn’t he? My safety doesn’t-” Sasako stopped herself in consideration because she was aware that her Mama Aura would be upset. “Next time, I promise to be smarter.”

“Good.” Kiyoko supported her with a hand on her back. Sasako appreciated it even when it wasn’t needed. As they descended the flight of stairs, Kiyoko spoke again. “About Sayuri… Thank you for protecting her. I don’t know if that was stupid or brave of you to get hit in the face however.”

Sasako chuckled. “She’s a regular worker unlike me, and that means she has clients more often than I do. She needs to keep up her appearance, of course. I can just appear when I feel like it.”

“We both know that’s not the only reason.” Kiyoko continued, “From where I’m involved, it’s rare to see people like you. People who actually think of others. Perhaps that’s why I kept you.”

“I love you too, Mama Aura.” Kiyoko rolled her eyes and opened the door to their personal lounge.

“Take the rest of the night off; you’ll still get the pay of a full night shift in compensation.” She got a pat in the head. “Take care, alright Sasako?”

She nodded and flashed a smile.

As suggested by Kiyoko, Sasako ended her shift early in the night, hailing a cab and miraculously alright as she arrived at her flat. Her residence was quite posh and classy. It would be above an average person’s pay grade to own such a lavish living area. Luckily, she had more than one job to support it. Sasako took off her heels, tossed her bag on the nearest sofa, and went to take an ice pack from her fridge.

It seemed pretty normal for a hostess who had quite the bad day to do, but there was nothing normal about typing a passcode in an electronic device plastered beneath a hung painting to have that wall partition to slide open and reveal a passage. And it was definitely not normal for that said passage to lead to a room that screamed mercenary and danger; it had one side dedicated to a list of names paired with pictures. A kill-list.

If one could call that normal, Sasako-no, _Haise_ would laugh at them.

_“Hey idiot.”_ was the first thing that buzzed through his comm.

“Now that's not very nice of you, Touka-chan.” Haise situated himself at a chair, crossing his legs and toeing the smooth expanse of the tiled floor with his foot that was planted flat. “Found his whereabouts yet?”

_“There hasn't been a stable point in his location yet. On the move by car, I suppose. You won't be deployed tonight.”_

“Fine.”

_“You sound angry.”_ Touka huffed in amusement.

“I’ll admit it.”

Touka grinned and waved it off as Haise merely pouting, _“Just a couple more days. I only need to find his place of residence and have others take it from there. If we're lucky, we can find the location where he's held the kids.”_

Haise’s mood was far from improving, “I'll make sure he speaks up otherwise.”

Haise hears Touka hesitate for a beat before she calmly suggests, “Are you sure about this assignment? Nishiki can take it instead.” She sighed.

Haise could understand what she secretly meant. _You sound too angry, and emotions jeopardize missions._ And, _I'm worried because it's rare for you to get this riled up. I hope you know what you're doing. Yes, he could hear her loud and clear._

The thick cloud in his head dissipated just enough to allow Haise to release a long sigh, tone neutral. Emotions were liabilities.“There's no need.” Haise removed his wig and cap, scratching his real hair while eyeing the picture of Moriyama on his wall through his mascaraed eyelashes. “And the tracker? Since no one is killing anyone tonight, won't he find out?”

Touka shook her head. _“The chip will explode when he discards his jacket. No traces.”_ It had been done before. It was already showing that Haise was distracted this time.

“Oh? Right.” He sounded uncertain.

_“Have faith. I installed noise receptors, so I'll fry it when it's put to wash.”_

“I love you,” Haise released a bit of tension around the edges and offered the smallest affectionate smile.

Touka rolled her eyes yet again, _“Yeah, tell that to the mob boss you're dating.”_ Before he could retort, she hung up. A very Touka thing to do. So, there was no use for this room today? Haise shrugged, opening the artillery closet. He could prepare in the least.

He poked his left cheek experimentally. Haise winced at the terrible ache and heavy pulsating pang. This was going to leave a bruise tomorrow.

* * *

 

Arima, by luck, had no appointments until ten in the morning and so it meant he could go with Hairu to school. She skipped up and about, happy that her Tou-chan would be able to be with her. It made him happy to give some semblance of a normal parent fit for her, but it saddened him to some extent that it wouldn't be something he could  always do for her. On their way to the Chateau, she reigned in on her extra vocabulary that'ed been consistently piling up with the courtesy of Haise. She also talked about her so called 'squad’ or her group of friends. Like how one mean looking boy turned out to be the biggest softie or how some of them actually want to learn her knightly ways. Like how the sandy circles are war turfs and how seesaws could carry more than two.

It's pleasant to listen to, a balm to the headache Arima has from the background of guns and death. Hairu said she wanted a new hairstyle. He asks her why. She says she wants to imitate the delicious looking pudding hair Sasaki-sensei has. It makes him smile. Her range of topics are broadening, because she sees new things and experiences fun in her school. He knew then that enrolling her was the best decision. Arima’s not going to permit the dye though, even if her pleading look cuts a close second.

They arrived rather early again as the corridors only had teachers buzzing with caffeine and preparations for class. They headed to her classroom quietly, and it was when Arima could hear muted exchanges from the faculty nearby that he noticed something was off in the atmosphere.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“-he said he tripped in his stairs.”

“We never know.”

Arima slid the door open and there was Haise, jotting something down on the chalkboard. The teacher faced them, his smile bright, but somewhat pained. It was obvious as to what had caused the quiet gossip he’d just heard; there was a large dressing on his left cheek. Concern washed over Arima rather suddenly.

“Good morning, Hairu-chan,” Haise said warmly, shifting his eyes to Arima. His smile dampened a little as Arima shot a troubled look. “Arima-san.”

“Sensei, what's that on your cheek?” Hairu walked up to him, alarmed. “Did a meanie bully you?”

Haise crouched down, patting her head. “Nothing important, Hairu-chan. Don't worry about it.” It was amazing what children could see and understand at such young ages, even if it was something they couldn’t fully wrap their heads around. It also helped that children were so trusting, because she gave a small smile of relief.

Arima, however, was not so easily swayed and it was clear to him that something was off. A trip down some stairs? Hardly.

“Haise,” It’s not even the right time to think how endearing he is with his baffled, slightly confused doe eyes, but he thinks of it, yet, the ever growing concern is more prevalent. “A word.”

Haise nodded, muttering something to his student that resulted in Hairu happily stalking off. He walked, and when he was about arms width, he stopped right in front of Arima, smiling timidly. “What's the matter?”

“Your cheek.” Arima stretched out his hand without thinking, fingertips touching around carefully. Haise reddens.

“It's nothing.” Haise moved a step to the side away from Arima’s hand.

Arima frowned, “Why are you hiding it, then?”

“I,” Haise glanced at Hairu who was now on the other side of the room, and then at the man in front of him. “Don't want to scare the kids.”

“Open wound?” Arima’s eyes narrowed, serious and a touch a touch intense.

Haise quickly shook his head. “Bruise,” Haise said abruptly.

Arima put a thumb near the corner of the dressing, waiting for approval. Haise sighed, clearly not appreciating the anxious side of Arima, so he withdraws. But then, a surprisingly firm hand grips his retreating one, and Haise is murmuring with a trusting look. “If you need to, it’s fine.”

His chest flutters, just a little, that Haise would let him see if only to ease his own concern It’s thoughtful in a way and a clear act of trust. It wasn't rude to ask per-se, but it was certainly personal to see a sign of vulnerability. Carefully, he peeled off the dressing.

The bruise was dark red, purple around the edges with specks of yellow. He’d only noticed that it had swelled. The force of impact must have been heavy, and the notion of falling from stairs to cause this was undeniably false. Arima’s seen all types of wounds: abrasions from tumbling, incisions from knifing, punctures from bullets- it's common in his line of business. He's accustomed to seeing it, but he isn't--isn't used to feeling something about it.

“Who did this to you?” There's a storm behind the all too quiet words, and Haise looked surprised to say the least.

Was Arima getting too close? The emotion held in that single question had not been something Haise was expecting to hear from him. He tried to lighten the situation by being honest but still attempting to let the issue go, “It doesn't matter.”

“It does.” The unspoken _'to me_ ’ is understood by Haise, which is why-- Haise finally laughs. Arima's quite confused at this turn of events.

“Oh Arima-san,” he says with a playful, well-endowed, and affectionate sight,“You're too serious. See?” Haise continued, placing a finger on the small crease between Arima's eyebrows. Finally, his expression rested on a lopsided grin that proceeded to weaken the oyabun’s defenses. “I don't want my boyfriend to be getting wrinkles this early.”

“I'm thirty five…” If Arima was weakened before, he's disarmed by the term Haise coined in. They were?--Wait a minute. He glared at Haise, the sly man was trying to distract him. “Nice try.”

Haise pouted; so he was trying to bridge away from the topic after all. “It was worth a shot.” He then admitted. “From Shiran. A customer was going to hit a pretty hostess. I wouldn't stand for it.”

“Who is he?”

“You aren't going to hunt him down, right?” Haise frowned. It was going too far, honestly.

Arima went silent. Something shifted in Haise’s expression, eyes and smile somber. “Someone once told me that it's better to be hurt than to hurt others. I think it's a silly saying, because I'd hurt those who’d hurt me twice as much, but even then, I find myself drawn to following the ideal.” He looks painstakingly beautiful like this, even with a flaw looming his features. Arima thinks he'll be beautiful regardless of circumstance, however. ”He's not worth thinking about, and I believe justice has been served by Mama Aura.”

“Kiyoko did?” Arima blinked. She was often placating rather than violent these days.

“Told him, and I quote,” Haise made a cranky face. “Get the fuck out of my club, or something like that.”

Perhaps Arima would have to thank her then.

“Arima-san?” Haise was enveloped in his arms, but Arima made sure his left cheek was untouched. Hairu could see them.

“It's good that you're safe.” If he peered down, he would have seen the blush that adorned his features.

“I meant what I said earlier. You're too serious for your own good. I can take care of myself.” Regardless, Haise reciprocated the hug awkwardly given out. It felt reassuring even if the man was stiff, because he felt the sincerity. “Thank you for worrying.” Even if it was a bit too much too soon and it made Haise feel a bit cautious, it was by all means . . . nice. Comforting, even. Perhaps he could call it ‘warm’?

“I'll put this back on,” Arima regarded the dressing in his hands. “Or would you feel more comfortable doing it yourself?”

“You can do it for me.” Haise smiled. Arima might actually just do anything for him if he had asked because who could say no to such a face?

“Tell me if it hurts.” The dressing shadowed over the bruise. Slowly, with care, Arima pressed in the corners that sticked. He watched the shorter man for his reaction. He did not wince. Arima was almost surprised when Haise relaxed in his touch, a breathy sigh released. Suffice to say, it did things to him he was not altogether prepared for. 

“You really are something, Arima-san.”

* * *

 

”I don't like this guy,” Fura huffed in his smoke, glaring at the documents coupled with pictures sprawled in the table. “Not one bit.” 

“This isn't middle school, Fura,” Ui said, “But, I share the same sentiment. I don't like where his money comes from."

Arima took one of the pictures, slightly blurred, but enough to make out the details. A couple of children, some not exclusively Japanese, in a cargo slightly opened. Some looked as though they may be as young as Hairu. Child trafficking-- a stigma even in the business of criminals. Being in the underworld meant one would be involved with drug and arm trades: killings; it should have solely dragged those who knew what they were getting into--not innocents.

“Reliable information states he isn't consistent in keeping his word,” Hirako was the only one not to voice his disdain, but Arima nevertheless heard the tightness of his tone. “Potential partnership with Moriyama Kaito is questionable.”

“How about the ladies at Shiran?” Ui’s brows were furrowed. “Did Kiyoko get anything?”

“Entertainment came out fruitless. The man harmed one of the ladies, and Kiyoko drove him out before he could do further damage.” Hirako explained.

_“--A customer was going to hit a pretty hostess. I wouldn't stand for it.”_

It was easy for him to put two and two together.

He remembered the blotched purple on the porcelain skin and the strained smile. Arima pressed his lips into a tight line, grey turning frigidly cold more so than before. “A week. Intelligence should do a sweep.”

“What then?” Fura asked, tapping his cigarette on the ash tray.

“Regardless of my decision to put a bullet through his head, or a contract in his hands, the children will be retrieved.”

The room fell silent after.

* * *

 

Five days later, and not one, but several corpses popped up. Moriyama and his men. 

Some said someone tipped the police. Amongst the dead bodies at the scene of crime, there were children recovered, without a scratch.

The children had spoken of a masked man.

* * *

The issue was resolved with almost no difficulty, and it had not come to the worst. Territories that the man owned would be distributed to major clans, but it was still a work in progress. Arima should have been satisfied with this turn of events, but he couldn't shake off the peculiar feeling of… unsettlement.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Haise was across the table, stirring the contents of his cup.

He remained silent.

“If… if it's about your work, it's okay.” He smiled radiantly, the bruise he had was at a stage of healing, since it was yellowish now. His hand reached out to his. “I won't pry but, if you’d give me the details of how you feel rather than the whole scenario, I can help, Kishou.”

“No need.” Arima squeezed his fingers reassuringly, warmed by the address of his first name. They had gotten to a point of mutual first name basis.  “Thank you for the thought, Haise.”

_Moriyama anxiously looked around, his usually fine pressed suit disheveled from running away. His routine of surveying the goods was cut short when this nightmare started. Bullets started to fly, blood was spilled, once alive bodies were dropping like flies. It would have been typical violence, but his men were more than competent, yet they were taken down with frightening precision and timing. This was professional work, and what scared him was that there was only one man, not eight or ten, responsible for this whole mess. He saw no one, and took his time to heave a breath, take his phone out to order backup._

_A knife sliced through the air and his palm. He clutched his hand in pain, knees brought to asphalt. His breath quickened with the soft padded sounds drawing closer and closer. “What do you want?! If it's money you want, I-Ive got plenty.”_

_The man remained silent._

_“Who sent you?” Moriyama had a 9mm underneath his jacket. He had a chance._

_His free hand was crushed by his boot. Dread settled in his gut. Slowly, he dared to look up. The assailant wore a mask that obscured his features, save his left eye that caught the gleam of the moonlight. A silver iris that looked down menacingly. The eye of a killer driven to take down the target. The hairs of his arms rose. He didn't have a chance._

_“Please… Please let me go. I'll do an-anything…!”_

_“I wonder how many children pleaded to you in the same way you have now to me.”_

_His throat felt constricted, vision blurring._

_“You reap what you sow.”_

_“You're not that different.” Moriyama spat. “You're a killer. You’ll suffer as much-”_

_A shot rang through the dead of the night, the ground a canvas of red._

_“That's right. I kill and I'll suffer for it.” He looked at the grotesque scene that was once Moriyama Kaito. In his one visible eye, red tinged around silver. “And I'll happily accept retribution.”_

_If it means sending you all to hell._

Haise released his bated breath, the hand that pulled the trigger a night before squeezing back. Very slowly, he smiled. “You're welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TKFL: Sorry it took so long for us to get the next chapter out! We're busy af. This is us trying to keep the arisasa alive. I can't believe it's almost a year since Arima's passed ;;.


End file.
